


Charming Revisited

by Harlee_Quinn



Series: Jaxene Universe [9]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 117,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlee_Quinn/pseuds/Harlee_Quinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When tragedy strikes, can Jax and Jolene help their SAMCRO family recover?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Hate the Playa

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.**

* * *

Alexander "Tig" Trager was not a man of regrets. When shit happened, it just did. There was never any rhyme or reason to it. It just was.

But on a fine fall afternoon, an incident would occur that would spark the mother of all shit storms for the Sons of Anarchy, the repercussions of which could be laid squarely on the Sergeant-at-Arms' doorstep.

It was a relatively easy assignment, delivering a small shipment of MAC-10s bundled in several bedrolls to the President and VP of the Grim Bastards Motorcycle Club, T.O. Cross and Lander Jackson. The Bastards were allies of SAMCRO, the only friendly MC of several operating out of the city of Lodi. T.O. had contacted the Club to place an order for some hardware as there was an influx of other crews into Lodi and they needed the new merch in order to protect their territory. The Bastards were not interested in sharing their pussy and dope trade with anyone else.

Having spent the early afternoon making the run to Lodi with his Prospect, Bobby Munson's youngest son Tiki, the plan had been to head back to Charming after making the drop. They were on their way to the I-22 when Tig's stomach suddenly grumbled in protest.

Abruptly making a u-turn, Tig decided that it might be a good idea to pick up some grub right now, not really feeling like grabbing lunch from Nicky's Diner. "Hey, Prospect!" Tig yelled loudly in order to be heard over the roar of their bikes. "Let's make a pit stop!" It wasn't a request.

Tiki Munson nodded his head.

The 18 year old had been hanging around the Clubhouse since he started riding his father's old chopper at 16. Still, Tiki's chances of prospecting with the Sons were almost slim to none considering that he had been something of a sickly youngster. He had suffered with Asthma throughout his pre-adolescent years and, even though Tiki had managed to outgrow it, he still remained the runt of Bobby's kids.

At 16, however, Tiki hit a grow spurt and added six inches to his height and about fifteen pounds of muscle mass to his frame. Now standing at six feet, four inches taller than his old man, Tiki had grown into his cute baby face and had become something of a new favorite with the sweetbutts and croweaters at the Clubhouse. With thick curly hair like his father and a sexy smile, Tiki was a younger, much sexier and slightly less hairy version of his father. As Clay had put it to Piney, Tiki was very much like his father's idol Elvis Presley, minus a few hundred loaves of banana bread.

With his crazy red-headed rattlesnake of a mother threatening to run warrants on the entire Clubhouse, no one even dared to consider sponsoring Tiki. But even at sweet sixteen, Tiki had proven to be quite a babe magnet and the quality of the pussy hanging around the Clubhouse hadn't been this good since Jax Teller was a single man. Tig could spot talent when he saw it and, impressed by the boy's panty-dropping skills, promised to cut the kid a break. He offered to sponsor Tiki when he became legal, _if_ he could talk his mother into being okay with it.

By the time Tiki had turned 18, he had managed to pick up a little bit of polish from hanging around seasoned bikers and Tig could see the potential in the boy. While his older brothers Aaron and Milo had decided that the Life was not for them, preferring to join the bounty-hunting side of the family along with Precious and her current husband, instead, Tiki embraced the Life eagerly. Precious, desperate to keep at least one of her sons out of the path of danger, tried to steer her youngest towards a career in office equipment repair. Somehow, Tiki wasn't buying his mother's speech regarding hard, honest work paying off in the long run, especially not when the starting salary was minimum wage. If he was going to work hard, then he wanted to enjoy the fruits of his labor while he was still young, making the life of an outlaw biker that much more appealing than that of an office grunt.

In the short time he had been prospecting, Tiki had proven himself a tough as well as smart kid, backing Tig up no matter what and learning the assembly side of SAMCRO's gun-running quicker than most. Never having sponsored anyone before, Tig took his responsibility with Bobby's son quite seriously, determined that the tough little nut would become a Son worthy of his top rocker under his watch or fold like a little bitch. With Tig, there was no gray area.

Tiki followed his sponsor as he pulled in front of a bar and restaurant at the end of Lodi's Restaurant Row. Barely one step above a dive, Tiki noted the sign hanging over the entrance proclaiming it "Tito's World Famous Empanada House & Bar."

Swinging a leg over his bike, Tiki placed his helmet on the handlebars of his father's ancient Harley Davidson Fat Boy. The bike was pretty much on its last legs despite what his father said about it having a few good years left, but Tiki was glad to have it until he could afford to get a bike on his own.

"If you ask me, this place looks like a shit hole." He murmured under his breath. Unfortunately for him, his sponsor heard him.

"Nobody asked you, asshole!" The crazy-eyed biker with black curly hair pointed a finger at the boy-man. "Shows what you know. Just shut up and learn from the best. This place has the finest, most delicious empanadas and enchiladas you ever put in your mouth. I swear, the cook must have floated on his back here straight from over the border. Just opened up a few months back. Come on." Tig headed towards the entrance, with his Prospect falling into step behind him.

Once inside, Tiki had to agree. The establishment was actually slightly better than a shit hole. _Slightly_. It was pretty much a hole in the wall, but as with most holes in the wall, it wasn't the ambiance that mattered—it was the food and the drinks, which were prime and cheap. Tiki could tell that the older man was right on the money as the smells of spicy meat, salsa and beans and rice assailed his nostrils as soon as they walked in.

It was mid-afternoon, so most of the lunch crowd was gone, but there was a small mix of patrons at the tables, either finishing their meal or taking a beer break at the bar before returning to work.

Plopping himself down on a wooden chair, Tig took a quick glance at the menu before tossing it back on the table. A slight attempt had been made to try and make the dining section of the bar reminiscent of an old-fashioned Mexican-style restaurant. The plastic table cloths, cheesy centerpieces made of dusty silk flowers and posters of Mexican tourist spots against bright orange painted walls looked tacky, but Tig didn't come here for the sights.

Except for the sight making her way over to their table.

Tig raised an eyebrow. _Eating some Mexican has taken on a whole new meaning cuz this bitch is looking pretty fuckin' good._

It was well-known among the SAMCRO patches that its SAA had an unfailing weakness for Latino heat, and today was no exception. Unfortunately for Tig, and his brothers, he was about to hook up with the wrong señorita.

* * *

Tiki slammed his knee into the groin of his opponent, following up with a left to his mid-section and a right hook to his chin. As the 6'4 man went sprawling, slamming into a wall, Tiki wondered how the hell he had gotten into this shit.

The argument, which quickly turned into a brawl, was raging out of control and Tiki had lost sight of his sponsor. Feeling someone grab his shoulder, Tiki used his right elbow as a battering ram and took them out from behind, and grinned as he heard the body hit the floor.

_Good thing I managed to pick up a few pointers from watching bare knuckle fights in Galt with Pop._

Dodging out of the path of a chair that had been aimed at his head, Tiki barreled toward his new opponent, lifting him by his legs and throwing him over his shoulder.

_We need to get our asses out of here before the fuckin' pigs show up, but where the fuck's Tig?_

Finding himself right next to the entrance, Tiki whirled around when he was grabbed again. Ready to throw another multi-ringed punch, Tiki found his hand stopped in mid-air as the SAA'S hand clamped over it.

"Fun's over, asshole." Tig chuckled. "It's time to leave."

Both men sprinted out of the door, jumping on their bikes and sped off, leaving the bar in their wake.

Unfortunately, the fight was far from over.

* * *

_What. The. Fuck!?_

Jackson Teller, President of the Sons of Anarchy Redwood Original didn't have a clue as to what had happened, but he knew that it wasn't good.

The call had come in only ten minutes ago. It was unlike his SAA to call for help. The former Marine never had trouble handling his shit, but whatever had gone down in Lodi must have been bad for him to call his brothers to come to the rescue. Jax could only hope that they managed to get to Tig and his Prospect in time and find them both in one piece. Bobby wasn't expected back in Charming until Thursday and Jax didn't want to have call him back early from his gig in Tahoe with bad news about his son.

The convoy of twelve riders made an impressive sight as they sped down the I-22 heading to Lodi. As they turned around the next bend, Jax heard his VP shout. "There they are!"

 _Oh shit_ , Jax thought as he saw his brother and the Prospect heading towards them on the opposite side of the highway with what appeared to be a pack of about eight Harleys on their asses, each one of them sporting ape-hangers, about a quarter of a mile back.

_Mayans!_

Heading for a break in the highway, the SAMCRO convoy managed to swerve onto the opposite side and caught up with their brothers.

"Tig! What the fuck happened? Why are the Mayans lookin' to crawl up your ass?" The SAMCRO President shouted.

"Not Mayans! Calaveras! Take care of the Prospect! I got this!" At that Tig slowed his bike down enough to fall back behind his brothers, swerving around to face the oncoming traffic and the Calaveras. Dodging the cars, who were trying to get out of the path of the mad man riding towards them on the wrong side of the road, Tig pulled out his Glock firing it several times in the air as a warning. Instead of fleeing, the Lodi-based MC decided to return fire, with several bullets narrowly missing Tig as they flew by.

"These bitches can't shoot worth shit!" Tig laughed. "Time to show 'em how it's done!" Firing into the convoy rapidly gaining on him, the former Marine sharpshooter shot three times and wounded three riders, the last of which spun out of control and slammed into the divider, before the rest of the CL crew scattered like roaches.

Tig grinned. "Keep running, bitches!" He yelled as he spun his ride around and headed back towards Charming.

* * *

"Do you want to tell me what the fuck just happened?" Jax growled, his arms folded as he eyed his SAA when he walked into the Main Room of the Clubhouse.

Rather than answer the question, Tig took a look around. "Is the kid all right?"

Piney, who was sitting in his customary seat at the bar, turned to face him. "Yeah, he's okay. He's got some minor bruising. Chibs is cleaning him up in the back."

Hearing that Bobby's boy was all right, Tig turned to his President. "We kind of ran into a little trouble. It was no big shit." He shrugged his shoulders.

"No big shit? So this is normal everyday shit for you?" Opie retorted. "It's business as usual having a puppet MC like the Calaveras practically escort you back to Charming by chasing your ass down the fuckin' highway?"

"Did this have anything to do with the Bastards' shipment you were supposed to drop off?" Jax asked.

Tig rubbed a hand across his face. "No, man. The shipment's fine. T.O. got his merch. Me and the Prospect just stopped to grab some food in Lodi and things got a little twisted, that's all."

"A little twisted? I don't think so." Jax's nostrils flared. "Church. Right now."

As the patches settled down around the Redwood table, their President's eyes glowered as he fixed them on his SAA. "So, how the fuck did things get 'twisted'?"

* * *

Tig's first thought had been that he was going to end up with a nice slice of dessert to go with his meal as he had watched the waitress approach their table.

The petite beauty, with smooth brown skin, a nice rack that emphasized a very tight and very curvy body, and a mass of wavy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail was right up Tig's alley. And if her smile was anything to go by, she liked what she saw as well.

Tig was by no means a "pretty blond pussy" like the SAA of the Tacoma charter, but he knew he was no slouch either. In spite of the fact that he was pushing 53, at 6'2 and 195 pounds, the former Marine and current SAMCRO SAA kept his body in top condition.

_Especially the ten inches that this hot little Mamí has her eyes on._

There was something undeniably attractive about Tig Trager's deep blue eyes, wildly crazy hair and trim black beard and soul patch. With his leather kutte over a form-fitting black short-sleeve t-shirt, black jeans, black steel-toed boots, and the sterling-silver Reaper rings on his fingers, he made an impressive figure. And he knew it too, as all the eyes in the restaurant had fixated on him the moment he had entered through the bar.

Tig was a man's man, and although you could see the wildness behind the eyes, women who liked bad boys had a hard time resisting dropping their thongs for the outlaw biker.

Propping a plump ass on the heavy table, the pretty little Latina gave Tig a flirty grin. "Hey Papí. I don't think I've ever seen you in here before."

"Hi, Doll. I've been in here a time or two, but I haven't seen you around here either."

 _Shit, man,_ the waitress thought. _He's fuckin' hot._

"I just started working here a couple of weeks ago. My name's Luisa." Taking a quick peek at the package Tig was sporting, she had a smirk on her face. "I can see that you're hungry, Papí, but I can only help you out with what's on the menu."

Tig grinned and winked at the young woman. "Well, I guess I'll have to settle for the food. For now." Quickly giving her his order, Tig watched as she turned to the Prospect. She looked bored as she answered several of Tiki's questions regarding the menu. Not bothering to give the smiling younger man the time of day, Luisa jotted down Tiki's order. Giving Tig a quick wink, the waitress made a show of sashaying her ass to the kitchen to place their order.

Tiki tried to hide his amazement at Tig's successful flirting, but the older man caught on. "What?"

Having been around the Club during SAMCRO-family sponsored functions since he was kid, Tiki felt that he could push the envelope with his sponsor, and let it fly. "Dude, you're like, what, twice her age?"

Tig grinned at the Prospect as he drank his beer. "Shithead, don't you know that age ain't nothing but a number? Being my Prospect and all, I guess it's time I dropped a pearl of wisdom or two on your ass on the subject of bitches. Lesson number one: you don't have to be some pretty boy biker to get them to drop their panties for ya. You just need the right skill set."

Tiki barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling. "And that is?"

"It's a combination of what you say to get these bitches wet and the only number that really matters in the grand scheme of things: the size of your dick. If you're a small-dicked bastard, I'm sorry, but I got nothing for you. If you're gifted in that department like me, once you learn how to lay that pipe just right, they keep coming back for more." The older man counseled. "Guaranteed. On a side note, after you fuck a bitch and she says to you that size don't matter, what she's really telling you is that she's had bigger, so don't even waste your time and move on."

Dipping a tortilla chip into some spicy salsa, Tiki threw his head back and laughed.

"You're laughing, but what you should be doing is writing this shit down. It's not every day you get to see a master at work." Tig flashed him an evil grin.

"Oh so, you seriously think you're gonna hit that shit?" Tiki countered.

"I don't think nothing. I know. Watch and learn, my young Padawan. Watch and learn."

Tig thoroughly enjoyed his meal and spent an equal amount of time eating and flirting with Luisa, as Tiki sat astounded at the older man's prowess. When she brought the check, Tig pulled out a roll of bills big enough to choke a horse to pay for their meal.

Standing up, Tig took two steps right into Luisa's personal space. Handing her the check with more cash than was needed to cover the bill, he grinned as he heard her gasp and saw her pupils dilate. Tiki watched as his sponsor bent down and whispered something into the waitress' ear, nearly falling off his chair when she took Tig by the hand and practically dragged him towards the corridor at the back of the restaurant leading to the restrooms.

"Motherfuck!" Tiki laughed as he ran his hand through his own unruly curly hair. "He's actually getting some."

With the exception of the guy tending bar who was shooting the breeze with another waitress, Tiki was the only other warm body in the place. Sipping on another beer, Tiki raised his eyebrows and shook his head when, about half an hour later, his sponsor returned to the table. The man had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and was followed by a rumpled but sexy Latina who had obviously given him a ride and a half.

"Maybe you come back again, huh, Papí?" Wrapping her arms around his waist, Tiki rolled his eyes as he watched the woman nearly suck the tongue out of Tig's head.

_Now I'm gonna have to fuckin' bow to the Master._

Pulling her lips away from Tig's with a wet sucking sound, and with Tig's back towards the entrance of the bar, Luisa was the only one to see the group of men as they entered. Suddenly, Tig found himself being slapped hard across the face and shoved back so that he slammed against another man, as Tiki quickly jumped out of his chair.

As he spun around, Tig heard Luisa crying hysterically and saw that she had thrown herself into the arms of one of the men. Men, he noted with a smile, who were wearing kuttes of the Calaveras MC.

"Hector, Papí, thank God you here. This puto bitch just mauled me."

Hector Salazar, the President of the Calaveras MC, shouted. "You let that puto touch you?"

"Ah, actually, she didn't just let me touch her. She let me fuck the living shit out of her in the stall of the women's bathroom." Tig smiled a cocky grin. "Twice. She's a fuckin' freak, man. I guess it's like I told my friend here," Tig nodded at the wide-eyed Prospect. "A real man knows how to lay his pipe just right, but I guess you haven't been taking care of business, _ese._ "

"That's a fuckin' lie!" Luisa screeched. "He shorted me on the tip, but said he would make up for it and then grabbed me and stuck his tongue down my throat!"

"I'm going to cut you from ear to ear, you fuckin' piece of shit. Then I'm going to hack your kutte to pieces." Salazar threatened.

Salazar looked into the crazy blue eyes of the man standing in front of him as Tig held his kutte open and said, "Come and get it."

* * *

"Personally, if I had been alone I would have taken on all of them, but I had the Prospect. Although I do have to say, Bobby's boy handled his shit, but I thought it was best to get him out of there before the Sanwa sheriffs showed up. I didn't expect the CL to give chase though, so that's when I called you. Jax, it was so totally that bitch's fault, man."

Jax looked at his SAA and shook his head. "You just had to rock her world, didn't you? You just couldn't have lunch and called it a fuckin' day!"

Tig shrugged. "Hey, once upon a time, playa, you knew exactly where I'm coming from. I don't just _like_ pussy, brother. I _love_ it, especially when it's free." He grinned. "Don't hate the player 'cuz you're no longer in the game. Don't hate. Appreciate."

At that, all the brothers around the table started laughing and hooting.

Sitting at the opposite end of the table next to Piney, Clay Morrow finally managed to get his laughter under control as he noted the unamused expression on his son-in-law's face as he eyed his SAA.

_I've been there, done that, and got the fuckin' t-shirt to prove that shit. Tig is a sick son of a bitch._

At the birth of his second grandchild, Clay had made the decision to permanently turn the gavel over to Jax. It had not been easy, but it had given the old crusty biker the opportunity to get the surgery he needed in order to regain the use of his hands and allow him to have a seat at the table again. Retiring had also given him the opportunity to enjoy growing old with his wife and doting on his grandchildren. In some ways, it was a relief not having to deal with the many problems and responsibilities of holding the gavel. Now that burden was on the current President.

 _I'm so glad I don't have to clean this shit up._ Clay leaned back in his chair and took a pull on his cherished once-monthly Cohiba cigar that his President allowed him to have at the Club under the radar and slowly exhaled. "So, what kind of damage are we looking at here?"

Tig sighed. "I shot three of their guys, just winged them, but one of them spun out of control and hit the divider. It didn't look too good, man."

Jax sighed as he ran a hand through his slicked back hair. Although only still in his early 30's, the outlaw biker's hair was starting to show signs of the stress he was under as leader of the Club, his blond hair sporting a light sprinkling of silver.

And some of those gray hairs had Tig's name all over them.

Jax Teller had a love/hate relationship with his Sergeant-at-Arms. Jax valued his service and counsel greatly. Tig had transitioned better than Jax thought he would when his father-in-law had stepped down. He protected his new President in much the same way he had looked after Clay Morrow, and it was Tig's tendency to veer off into the crazy that convinced Jax he was safe with Tig watching his back. But he was a hardcore biker who sometimes disregarded JT's mantra, _Brains Before Bullets_. So every once in a while, Tig would manage to get the Club into some collective shit, sometimes by shooting first and asking questions later, and other times by letting his dick do the all the talking.

The last close call had been two years ago when their gun assembly warehouse located between Charming and Modesto was burnt down to the ground. The SAA had been banging two of the illegals they had been using to assemble their merch. Unfortunately for them and for the Club, they died in the fire and were subsequently discovered by Deputy Chief David Hale while he was investigating the scene.

Hale worked hard to tie the Sons to the warehouse as well as the deaths and would have scored a direct hit too when the Lodi Forensic Team ran a DNA on the Tigger juice sloshing around in the bellies of both women. Lucky for Tig and the Club, Jax had managed to come up with a plan that enabled them to get to the bodies first and were able to get rid of the evidence under Hale's radar.

The Club had narrowly escaped the long arm of the law that time and Jax didn't want any more close calls. After a period of nothing but trouble, including the Stahl/RIRA mess, the Club had settled down into a pattern of routine business for the four years that Jax had been sitting at the head of the table. Flare ups happened every so often, but that was the nature of the beast. That shit was easily managed, but now with the Calaveras pissed off at the Sons, Jax wasn't sure what the ramifications would be. SAMCRO could easily squash a bullshit MC like the Calaveras, but they had nothing to prove. In Jax's mind, however, that's what made the CL so dangerous. They had more to gain by starting a war with the Sons, namely, street cred.

"The CL is nothing more than just a glorified group of runners for the Mayans. They have no connections, no affiliations and with Alvarez intent on keeping the peace over the last few years, I can't see him declaring war on us because one of the CL got spread all over the I-22. For now, let's table this shit." Jax advised. "We'll keep an ear and eye out on Lodi, maybe get the Grim Bastards to run a little Intel for us and get them to keep tabs on the CL, but hopefully it won't come to anything."

"Sounds good to me." Happy replied, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Besides, I wanna hear more about this chica Tig banged."

"Hey, forget that shit. There's something more important to be discussed and that is the state of health and well-being of every patch at this table." Clay interjected. "Since we're all gathered together, I feel it's my duty to remind you about the Taste of Charming festival. Every single one of you better be at that fundraiser on Saturday unless, of course, you want a size nine high heel boot up your ass." Clay warned as he finally stubbed out the nub of his cigar.

Chibs cocked a doubtful eyebrow at him. "You coming?"

Clay, the long-suffering martyr, sighed. "Only if I wanna keep my balls."

* * *

Buckhead, also known as Sam Crow's Corner, was one of Charming's smaller middle class neighborhoods. Located in the west end of town, it was once the site of farmsteads, ranches and orchards that were bought by housing developers after the second World War and subsequently turned into picturesque neighborhoods that had a classic Americana look and structure.

About two years after their twins were born, Opie and Donna Winston finally moved out of the small one-bedroom house they had rented and purchased a three-bedroom home in the neighborhood. The one-story house, although more than 60 years old, had met the needs of the Winston family for a number of years.

After having to deal with Tig's bullshit by going on an unplanned "protection" run, Opie was looking forward to kicking back with his family and relaxing. Pulling up to his home, Opie parked his bike in the driveway next to the family's mid-sized SUV. Pulling off his helmet and placing it on the bars of his bike, the late afternoon sun made the 6'4 biker's reddish brown hair gleam in the sun as he strode towards his modest home.

Before he reached the door, it flew open to reveal his daughter Ellie, who threw her arms around father's waist. "Hey, Daddy." She smiled up at him.

"Hey, Pumpkin."

It was a time-honored tradition that Opie had with his kids for them to welcome him home each day. Although his son was outgrowing it, being totally engrossed in his XBox 360 or hanging around with his friends, Opie could always count on being met at the door by his daughter.

Physically, at 11 years old, Ellie Winston looked more and more like her mother every day, with sable-colored hair, blue eyes and a beautiful wide smile. The only physical trait Ellie managed to get from him were the red highlights in her hair and his height, as she was steadily catching up to her brother, turning into a lanky pre-adolescent girl almost overnight.

Walking into his home, Opie hung his kutte on the coat rack by the door. With his daughter's arm around his waist and his around her shoulders, Opie allowed his nose to lead him to the tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen.

"Hey, your Mom's cooking today." Opie said, pleasantly surprised. "She must've read my mind cuz I really wasn't feeling pizza tonight."

Ellie wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I like pizza and all, but I love Mom's cooking more."

Coming into the small kitchen, Opie leaned against the doorway as he watched his wife working some culinary magic on the stove. With her shoulder length hair pinned up haphazardly off her neck and wearing nothing but a simple t-shirt, jeans and barefoot, her toes sporting pink nail polish, Donna Winston didn't look a day over 25.

"Something smells real good. And looks real good, too." Opie practically leered at his wife's plump ass, his most favorite part of her anatomy. Wrapping his arms around Donna from behind, he nuzzled her neck, tickling her with his beard.

Donna grinned as she felt her husband press up against her. "Down, boy!" She whispered and half-giggled at her old man's antics. "We're not exactly alone."

"Aw, man! Are they at it again?" Harold Kenneth Winston Jr. groaned as he entered the kitchen. "You guys have a bedroom for that, ya know." The 11-year old boy, standing at over 5½ feet, rolled his eyes as he opened the refrigerator door for a snack before dinner.

"You know," Donna advised over her shoulder. "Your butt doesn't pay the mortgage, sport, so you don't get a vote."

"Besides, if I didn't love your Mom so much, you and your sister wouldn't be here." Opie advised as he kept nipping on his wife's neck.

"Okay, that's _waay_ too much info, Dad, even for me." Ellie rolled her eyes.

"Well, maybe you two should go set the table and leave us to it." Donna turned around to lock lips with her old man, as both kids groaned aloud.

"C'mon, Elle. Uncle Bobby's right. Sometimes, there's some sh—crap you can't unsee." Kenny muttered as he grabbed the dinner plates sitting on the edge of the counter, with his sister following behind him into the dining room with the glasses and utensils.

Pulling away from his old lady, Opie grinned down at the petite women. "Damn, I think that's an all-time record for us clearing a room."

"Yeah, I know." Donna stuck her hands in the back pockets of her husband's jeans and squeezed. "And it's a good thing, since this kitchen is so damn small."

"Hmm, is that another hint that we need to move?" Opie pulled her away from the stove and plastered his wife against the counter.

"So you picked up on that, huh?" She grinned up at her husband as his huge baseball mitt-sized hands squeezed her ass. "You know it's time, honey. As a matter of fact, I ran into Britt Adams today." She started.

"I can tell. Cute toes." Opie grinned.

"Yes, I managed to find some down time today to get my feet done and ran into her at Gina's. She said that she had a couple of interesting places on her books that would be perfect for us. And guess what? One of them is in Crestwood."

Opie cocked an eyebrow. "Really? In Jax's neighborhood?"

"Uh huh. We could be in a house large enough for my two giant men _and_ that much closer to our BFFs. And with Piney's health not being the best lately, I think it's time he moved in with us, especially if the property Britt has is as good as she says. It has one of those mother-in-law apartments attached, which would be perfect for him." Donna pulled out of her old man's embrace to retrieve the two large roasted chickens she had already carved and was keeping hot in the oven and directed her husband to dish out the garlic mash potatoes into a large bowl, along with the vegetable medley and the hot rolls.

"Okay, so now this home cooked meal makes perfect sense." Opie snarked as he headed towards the dining room with the food.

"You're such an ass!" Donna threw a dish towel at his head.

"Hey, you married me, so what does that make you?" Opie shot back.

"Ope?" She growled softly. "It would be good for all of us, especially after your Dad's last stint in the hospital."

Piermont "Piney" Winston was known to be a pretty stubborn old coot, and over the last year, his health was starting to fail. Ignoring the advice of the one doctor Opie had finally managed to get his father to see, Piney continued with his hard living, hard drinking lifestyle. As he told his son, "I'm too old a dog to change. The only thing killing me is how much you and your pretty little wife nag."

But after his last visit to the hospital two months ago, Donna had been steadily dropping hints that Piney needed more care and attention than he had been getting from his son and how near impossible it would be to move the older man into their small house. Piney was set in his ways and needed his own space.

Realizing that his old lady was right, Opie turned back to face her and gave her a shit-eating grin. "Then call Britt tomorrow."

As his old lady squealed her excitement, Opie grinned as he appreciatively watched a bra-less Donna bounce up and down.

_Shit, not only is making my old lady happy pretty easy to do, but it has its perks, too._


	2. Taste of Charming

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons o Anarchy.**

* * *

"D, you know I love you and your kids, but you better have a really good reason for dropping your twin terrors on my ass at the last minute." Jolene warned.

Standing in the entrance of her foyer, Jolene Teller crossed her arms under her chest as she eyed her excited friend.

"I do," Donna was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "And I come back baring gifts, so you don't have to worry about dinner tonight." She held up several bags of what Jolene could smell was Thai food.

"There better be an order of spring rolls in one of those bags with my name on it." Jolene started. Wearing nothing but a pair of old cargo pants and a tank top with her long, black hair pulled into a ponytail, the 30 year old mother suddenly turned on her heel and winced as the argument in the family room started escalating and increased in volume.

"God, what I really could use right now is a shot of tequila." Jolene muttered under her breath as she stomped towards the ruckus.

Too excited and happy with the news she had to share, all Donna could do was practically skip behind her best friend as she followed her to Ground Zero.

"Oh my God, dude! That was a freakin' cheesy move and you know it!" Abel tossed his PS3 controller over his shoulder and onto the couch.

"It's only cheesy to you cuz I won. Again!" Kenny argued.

"You only won cuz you cheesed, man! You keep coming at me with the same move, over and over. Change it up, or every win for you is going down as cheesy." Abel countered.

"Elle, was I being cheesy?" Kenny turned to his sister.

"I haven't had a turn for like the past half hour! You both suck!" Ellie countered.

"Uh oh, A-bee! Look at Mommy's face! You gonna get it now!" It was surprising how, even with three arguing kids, a barking dog, and now a squalling infant, the tiny, piping voice full of snark had managed to be heard. But much like the woman she was named after, there was no way three year old Maddox Gemma Teller would be denied getting a word in edgewise as she sat on the arm of a recliner swinging her bare little legs.

Quickly spinning around towards the doorway, Abel's huge green eyes widened even further as he met his mother's awesome death glare. Knowing that he and his friends were in the shit, Jax and Jolene's oldest tried to smooth things over by flashing his father's patented grin.

"Gee, Mom. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to set the kid off." Quickly crossing the room to the play pen set up next to the sofa, Abel bent over to pick up its occupant. Bouncing the irritated infant in his arms, Abel whispered to his little brother, "Yo TJ, help me out here or else I'm gonna have the taste of Ma's foot in my mouth after she shoves it up my ass."

Suddenly, as if the newest addition to the Teller household understood his brother's request perfectly, eight month old Thomas John Teller showed mercy on Abel and settled down. Rubbing his teary eyes with small, chubby fists, the baby hiccupped repeatedly as a result of his crying fit. It was obvious that the little one didn't appreciate having his nap time disturbed and, like his mother, didn't have a problem letting everyone know when he was unhappy.

Jolene reached out to take her young son from Abel. Cradling the baby in her arms, she eyed the three suddenly subdued children avoiding her gaze. "Aunt D brought dinner, so go wash up now. And try to do it without waking the dead or messing up my bathroom, you hear?"

A chorus of apologies could be heard as the three older children hastily exited the room, closely followed by Maddy and Chopper, with at least two making sure to avoid another death glare from their mother.

"Shit, girl, with that look I'm surprised they're still breathing." Donna chuckled.

Jolene plopped herself down onto her couch as she rocked her son back and forth. "Hey, I was on the receiving end of that look plenty of times myself, so I did learn from the best." Jolene said, thinking of her mother-in-law. "You'd think I'd have them in check, but Fridays at Excelsior Prep are tough and my death glare ain't what it used to be. Besides, I _thought_ I was going to have a relatively quiet afternoon until you showed up with two-thirds of the Brat Pack. You didn't even tell me what was up your butt, you ran out of here so fast."

Jolene had only been home an hour when Donna had called asking if she could drop the kids by while she went to a meeting.

"I know, I'm sorry." Donna plopped down next to her best friend, the shit-eating grin on her face looking anything but contrite. Settling into the comfy sofa, she took Thomas, affectionately known as TJ, from his mother. "You'll forgive me, though, when I tell ya that I finally wore my old man down."

Considering that they were practically inseparable since their middle school days, it took very few words between the two women to convey what they were thinking and Jolene immediately jumped to the proper conclusion. "Are you fuckin' kidding me? You got Sasquatch to cave?" Jolene exclaimed excitedly.

"Yup! It's surprising what a good home cooked meal and a couple hours of vigorous fucking can accomplish." Donna crowed as TJ, swept away by the excitement between the two friends, clapped along happily with his mother. "We had our first meet with Britt today and we saw two houses. And guess what? One of them is in Crestwood!"

Jolene reached over to give her BFF a hug as the baby squealed happily between them. "That's great, D! Where is it?"

Donna grinned. "Just five blocks away. It's the old Binghamton house."

Jolene's eyes rounded in surprise. "That place is gorgeous." Jolene knew the house well as she passed the two-story home on a daily basis on her way to work since moving into the neighborhood.

"The best part is that it has a mother-in-law apartment that looks out into this beautiful garden. It would be perfect for Piney."

Her best friend hooted at that. "You really think you're gonna get my drinking buddy to move in? Piney is so not the suburbia type."

"I don't care what the old cranky bastard thinks. He's moving in, and that's that. You know it's time, Jo." Donna reasoned.

Jolene sighed. "Yeah, I do."

It was an open secret in the Clubhouse that Piney's health had been on the decline over the last couple of years. The hardcore outlaw biker had been on a non-stop party train of booze, weed and women for over 40 years and despite his doctor's warnings, the old coot had no intention of getting off.

This, of course, was familiar territory for Jolene, having put a stop to her own father's destructive ways in order to squeeze out as much time with the old man as possible. "You're gonna have your work cut out for you with that one, but you can count of me to lean on him. If we pull Gemma in, too, I'm sure the three of us can nag him into moving in just to shut us up."

"Ope doesn't think it'll work, but he's supporting me on it. He knows I'm right when I tell him I'm afraid one day Piney will keel over in that stupid cabin of his and nobody will know about it for days. It would devastate Ope and the kids. And me."

Jolene smiled. Piney wasn't the easiest of her father's brothers to love. He used that brash, rough exterior to keep people at bay, but once he let you in, you were in for life. "Sometimes I think you're closer to Piney than Opie is."

Donna nodded. "He's gruff and rude, and likes to fart at the most inappropriate times, but I see so much of him in Ope that I can't help but love the old bastard. In a lot of ways, I think I love him more than my own dad. He's certainly been there for us a lot more than my own family."

To say that Helen and Bob Lerner had not been overjoyed by their only daughter's decision to marry a member of the town's outlaw MC would be an understatement. It had taken a number of years before the staid, middle-class couple could come to terms with the fact that Donna was committed to her husband and their family and that she wasn't going anywhere. While her father had eventually caved and accepted Opie as his son-in-law early in their marriage, his wife on the other hand barely tolerated the father of her grandchildren. In fact, had it not been for Kenny and Ellie, Helen Lerner might have never repaired her relationship with her daughter, and this was something that had astounded Jolene. As a mother now herself, Jolene couldn't think her children capable of doing anything that could justify her withholding her love from them.

As a result of her estrangement from her family, Donna had surprisingly found herself embraced by her husband's SAMCRO family. With Jolene's help, Donna had managed to find a balance between her marriage and the Club. Always looking for a way for everyone to get along, Donna started gravitating towards Opie's grumpy father in the hope of strengthening the relationship between father and son. Ultimately, after the birth of the twins, Piney had become closer to his daughter-in-law, always taking Donna's side on any domestic disputes between the couple. Granted, Piney was no Grandpa Walton, but he had often drunkenly pronounced that the love he had for his son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren was what was keeping him alive. Donna was determined to keep the old man around for as long as possible for her family.

"What did Ope think about the house?" Jolene asked.

"He actually liked it, but I was sure the price would be a deal-breaker, so I resigned myself to going with the other one we saw that wasn't bad, but not nearly as nice and we could really use the four bedrooms." Donna explained. "Britt offered to show us a couple of more, but Opie surprised the shit out of me by telling her to make an offer. Now, all we have to do is wait and see if the sellers accept. At this rate, we could be neighbors in a couple of months."

Jolene cocked an eyebrow. "Four bedrooms, huh? Any plans on turning one of those into a nursery and maybe give my little boy a best friend?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "No, no, no. This baby factory is closed for business. Yeah, this little bundle tugs at my heartstrings, but I'm done. If you want a playmate for TJ, you're gonna have to push another one out yourself."

"That's not gonna happen, D. It was hard enough talking my old man into having this cheeky monkey." Jolene stroked her son's sparse blond hair.

"Can you blame him?" Donna questioned.

"Not really." Jolene knew that she had pushed the envelope with this third pregnancy. After successfully giving birth to their second child Maddy, the new Queen of Charming had been determined to have one more. Jax, however, had not exactly been in a cooperative frame of mind when she had casually broached the subject soon after their daughter's birth.

Giving him time to catch his breath, Jolene had gone on to finally earn her Master's degree in Education in the 2½ years following Maddy's birth. All the while, Jolene had worked on softening up her old man enough that Jax finally broke down and promised to think about thinking about it. Not exactly a yes, but it was a start considering how possessive the love of her life was and how much he feared losing her.

After springing numerous surprise booty calls on him at the Clubhouse and one particularly hot vacation to Baja for just the two of them, Jax's resolve had finally melted and her potent old man had managed to knock Jolene up again in quick order.

Unfortunately, this time, in spite of the loving care and preparation on part of both parents, Jolene's pregnancy had gone a little sideways. Thomas John Teller had been born with the Maddoc family flaw—a congenital heart defect.

Although carried to full term, TJ was born at 5 pounds, 17 inches and had several tears in his heart. With Jax and Jolene fearing that they had pushed their luck, the chances that their youngest son wouldn't survive had been very real. After undergoing several surgeries and months of treatment, even though it had been a close call, the Tellers' youngest son finally received a clean bill of health after six months.

Now that their family was numbering five, Jax had put his foot down. He wasn't about to risk his old lady's health or the life of any more unborn children again. Realizing the wisdom of his words and his fears for her, Jolene had made the decision to have her tubes tied.

Donna could sense the shift in her friend's mood as Jolene pulled her son into her arms and squeezed him tight. It was a miracle the pudgy, robust baby had survived and in an attempt to lighten the mood, Donna changed the subject. "So did your slave driver of a mother-in-law finally manage to rope you into this Taste of Charming thing happening tomorrow?"

"I've done a pretty good job dodging her so far, but I just know my conscience is gonna kick in, not letting me skip the event altogether. After taking leave from work to take care of TJ, it's taking me a minute to get back in the swing of things. I really look forward to the weekends and spending down time with my old man and our babies. I'm really stingy with my free time, but it is for a good cause."

"And it's good P.R. for the Club." Donna added. "And _you are_ the Prez's Queen."

Jolene rolled her eyes. "Exactly."

The Taste of Charming festival was held annually in late summer. For many years now, the festival had served a dual purpose. Not only did it promote the many and varied Mom and Pop businesses in Charming, but it was also a fundraiser, raising thousands of dollars to fund many programs in the three public schools in town. The festival showcased the food and family activities available year round in the town and had grown in popularity, drawing visitors from nearby towns such as Modesto and Lodi and as far as Stockton.

While organized by the Chamber of Commerce, it was heavily funded and backed by the Sons of Anarchy. With Gemma Teller-Morrow at the forefront of the planning, it was just one way the old ladies of the MC gave back to the community, while at the same time fostering good will for the Club.

This year would be the largest festival ever. With over thirty different businesses sponsoring booths, it was expected that the family-oriented event would probably be the best and most remembered festival in its 25-year history.

As the saying goes, however, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

* * *

The town of Charming was a sleepy little village of sorts, a true slice of America. Only 23 miles in diameter, its 14,682 residents were used to a slower paced lifestyle, unlike the larger cities of Lodi, Modesto, Stockton and San Leandro. Small town venues go hand in hand with small town life and the Taste of Charming was a part of that.

The funds for this year's festival would be donated to the School District to fund Charming Middle School's music program. The large quad on the school grounds was the location of this year's event and Gemma had worked hard with the planning committee, Charming MS's PTA, and the school's Principal Michael O'Leary to make sure that the event would be a success.

Several of Charming's businesses and organizations were hosting a booth or had made a cash donation, including Nicky's Diner, Charming Police Department, Oswald Beef, Charming Dairy Works, Gina's Cut-N-Curl, and of course, the Sons of Anarchy. The huge square of school property not only housed the colorful booths, but was big enough for games and activities as well, such as a dunk tank, relay races, and an inflatable Castle gym for the younger children. A raffle and outdoor concert featuring Bobby Elvis and the TCB Band were planned for sundown, with a fireworks display courtesy of SAMCRO and rigged by Opie to close the festivities.

It was just barely noon and the town folk were already making their rounds to all of the booths, with their children running wild and generally having fun while one of several local bands played live music at the bandstand.

Gemma smiled as she directed a small army of croweaters in setting up the three SAMCRO booths—one for Bobby's prize-winning Chili and jalapeño corn bread, the second selling SAMCRO Supporter t-shirts and other bike accessories donated by T-M Auto, and the third an Elvis Makeover booth. She turned around as she heard someone call her name as they walked by the booths.

"Hey, Gem! Looking good. Seems like you have everything under control, so I'm gonna head over—"

"Stop right there! Do not move a damn muscle!" Gemma ordered, pointing a finger at Jolene as she came around the table. "You are not getting away so easy, especially not with my new grandson." Gemma was practically jelly as she cooed, reaching into the double-stroller to pick up the sleeping infant.

Jolene crossed her arms as her mother-in-law paid absolutely no attention to her as she cuddled TJ in her arms. The baby didn't bat an eyelash as he slept through his grandmother's onslaught of kisses. Finally looking at the young mother of three, who had seemingly stopped aging when she graduated college, Gemma grinned as she reached over to give her a hug.

"Shit, Jolene. Every time I see you, you're looking better and better." She marveled, grateful that her son's old lady had come through the other side after a difficult third pregnancy had depleted her health. "I thought you were going to bail out on me."

"To be honest, I considered it. After a year off from work, getting back into the swing of things is really kicking my ass, but Abel really wanted to come and wherever he goes you know Maddy has to follow." Jolene explained.

"Speaking of the rest of your little devils, where are they?" Gemma asked.

"With Jax, who's parking the Teller Mobile." Jolene grinned. The stripper pole in the bedroom had definitely been a good investment. So far, it had gone a long way in helping Jolene get her way with Jax, especially when everything else had failed in trying to convince him to buy a cage big enough for their growing family.

"You need to stop calling it that. I'm surprised he'll drive that thing at all." Gemma laughed.

"Yeah, my big bad outlaw really hates mini-vans."

"Well, when he gets here, he can take care of your precious babies while I put your ass to work."

Jolene crossed her arms under her enlarged chest, which she had managed to squeeze into a fitted t-shirt. "Gem, my baby needs access to these puppies on the regular, so I think—"

"That your old man can take care of him while you man the Chili booth for a couple of hours. Now come on and help me." Gemma strapped the sleeping baby back into his side of the double-stroller. "Besides, here comes Mr. Mom now."

Jolene looked up and smiled as she spotted her old man carrying his daughter, with Abel at his side leading the way.

 _Good thing Abel is there to direct his father over here_ , Jolene grinned to herself. _The man is still so enthralled by his baby girl that he can't bother to look and see where he's going_.

Jax came to abrupt halt in front of his old lady and mother, while Maddox continued to play her favorite game of tugging on his goatee and laughing hysterically whenever he groaned in pain as he made faces.

"Maddy, why do you want to hurt your daddy?" Jax pouted.

The three-year old with dark shoulder length hair pulled back in a ponytail smiled mischievously at her father, her blue-green eyes sparkling madly. "Cause you funny, Daddy." Stretching her small arms out, she clasped her little hands on either side of her father's face and plastered a wet kiss on his mouth. "I lub you."

Jolene playfully rolled her eyes as she literally saw her outlaw husband melt in to a puddle of goo. "I love you to, Mad." He whispered his pet name for her.

"Man, I am so over the mushy stuff." Eight-year old Abel rolled his eyes at his father as well. "I'm gonna go find Kenny and Ellie, okay Ma?" He asked.

"Okay, but make sure you stay in the quad. It's getting crowded." Jolene ordered.

As her brother ran off, Maddy tried to wriggle free of her father in order to chase after him. The toddler, dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a white SAMCRO t-shirt would have gotten away too had Jax not had a tight grip on her. "Sorry Mad, but you need to stay with me and TJ."

The little girl crossed her arms and pouted. "But I wanna go play with A-bee." She stared mutinously at her father.

"You can play with him later, honey." Jolene said as she reached out to stroke her daughter's hair. "Daddy's going to take you around to play some games with TJ while I help Grandma."

But the little girl wasn't giving up. Pointing at the sleeping baby, Maddy did a pretty good imitation of her grandfather. "I can't play wit _him_. He just sleeps and makes poopies."

"Don't worry, Mad. It's just you and me, but we'll still have a good time, okay?" Jax lifted his daughter up so that she sat on his shoulders, which caused her to shriek with laughter and excitement.

"Hey, Mrs. T!" Someone called out, causing Jolene, Jax, Gemma, and several other women working the SAMCRO booths to look in the direction of the quad. "What? No kissing booth?" One of Jolene's students, a jock from one of her math labs, called out as he and a group of his friends walked by.

Jax glared daggers at the abnormally tall teenager. In spite of his size, the young man's grin fell off his face as he made eye contact with the SAMCRO President and he hurriedly made himself scarce.

"Geez, baby. He was just kidding." Jolene giggled. "I think everyone knows by now that I am the property of one Jax Teller."

"And that trespassers will be shot." Gemma snarked.

Jax leaned into Jolene's personal space and nearly sucked the tongue out of her mouth. "Yeah, and survivors will be shot twice." He was smiling, but Jolene could see in his denim-blue eyes that he was deadly serious.

"That was so fuckin' hot." Jolene murmured to herself as she watched her old man walk off, holding onto his daughter with one hand, while using the other to push his son's stroller.

"Uh huh, cool down there, baby girl." Gemma teased before shouting after her son. "Jax! While your strolling about, give your brother a call and tell him to get his ass over here ASAP! We can't do Elvis makeovers without a fuckin' Elvis!"

* * *

By mid-afternoon, the grounds of Charming Middle School were swarming with people, with the sounds of laughter and music filling the air. Gemma had one eye on her booth and the other on Jolene. The young woman was inching further and further away from her station at the Chili booth, calling out encouragement at the top of her lungs as Abel took the lead in the sack race. Gemma stopped cutting a pan of cornbread into neat little squares long enough to whistle and clap as her grandson crossed the finish line first. Gemma shook her head, deciding to give Jolene a temporary furlough as Abel grabbed his mother by the hand, encouraging her to join him for the next event, the three-legged race.

Gemma grinned as she saw caught the eye of Chief Wayne Unser, who was working the Charming Police Department's booth on the opposite side of the quad. The hot dog booth, which featured a miniature jail cell next to it, proclaimed in big bold letters that Charming PD had been "Grilling Suspects for Over 50 Years." A short time later, the Chief stopped off at the fried chicken and apple pie booth sponsored by Nicky's Diner before making his way over to her.

"All that fried crap is gonna kill you." She warned her long-time friend as she eyed the container full of piping hot, deep-fried chicken.

"Yeah, 'cause the cancer is keeping me so fit and spunky." Unser replied sarcastically as he dipped a fried chicken tender into a cup of Nicky's special sauce and popped it into his mouth. Two years ago, the Chief, a thirty-year veteran of Charming's Police Department, had been diagnosed with second stage lung cancer. The older man seemed to be managing just fine, despite the fact that he and his wife Della had recently called it quits.

"How's the Chili?" Unser asked as he eyed several large crock pots and slabs of cornbread sitting on the table.

"Bobby put his foot in it as usual." Gemma's eyes narrowed as she looked over the Chief's shoulder. "Speak of the devil. He's finally here."

Hurrying over to the heavyset biker decked out in a white sequined pantsuit and wig, Gemma barked at him. "You're late, Elvis!"

Bobby, managing to dodge her, ran in front of Gemma and headed behind the Chili booth. "Do you have any idea of difficult it is to get this shit into a helmet?" He whined, pointing at his wig.

"The kids have been waiting for over an hour, damn it." Gemma complained.

"I've been cooking damn Chili and cornbread for 18 hours straight. Don't I deserve to get some sleep?"

"You can sleep when you're dead." Gemma fought the urge to kick his behind. At least he was here. "Speaking of dead, where's my husband and the rest of Club?"

"Relax, they're here. I think some of them went over to Oswald's booth to get some steaks. Now will you stop jerking my chain so I can get to the kids?" Bobby grumbled.

Suddenly popping out from behind the draped curtain of the booth next to the Chili stand, Bobby Elvis made his grand entrance. "Why bless my soul! Oooh, look at all of God's little children." Bobby clasped his hands together, each finger sporting a colorful and gaudy ring. "So tell me, who wants to look like Elvis?"

Several boys and girls all sitting with guitars shouted and jumped up and down, "Me! Me!"

"Really?" Chief Unser shook his head. "I thought all kids wanted to look like that Bieber kid."

"Not in this town." Gemma finally relaxed and smiled as Bobby placed huge gold aviator sunglasses on a little boy dressed in an identical pantsuit and wig before his mother snapped a picture.

* * *

"Well, it's about damn time you dragged your ass over here." Gemma folded her arms as her old man sauntered into the booth.

"Hey, babe. Hi, baby girl." Clay grinned as he stood between his wife and daughter and dropped kisses on Gemma's lips and Jolene's forehead.

"Where have you been?" Both of them said as one voice.

"Chewing the fat, that's all." Clay held up his hands in mock surrender.

"That fat had better not been attached to one of Oswald's steaks. And don't you even dare visit the hot dog booth—" Gemma started.

"Or the ice cream booth—" Jolene added.

"And if you go anywhere near Nicky's booth and all that fried chicken and pie, your ass and my foot are gonna get reacquainted real quick right in front of God and everybody else here." Gemma finished.

"You know, you two buzzkills suck the joy right out of life." The former SAMCRO President groused.

Jolene crossed her arms. "Only because we love you and want you around. Be grateful."

"Look, if it's all right with you two clucking hens, I'm gonna go and say hi to my old friend Unser."

"Fine, but if I see a hot dog in your hand, you're gonna need another surgeon to fix 'em." Gemma called out.

"Or worse," Jolene called out at his retreating back. "We'll sic Neeta on you!"

* * *

Jolene wiped the sweat from her brow with a napkin before serving the next customer a heaping bowl of Chili and cornbread. The booth was doing brisk business and somehow a "couple of hours" was quickly turning into all afternoon as Gemma kept her on lock down at the tent.

Looking for a reprieve, Jolene scanned the crowd trying to spot her old man, but found her BFF instead. Donna was approaching the booth with her daughter Ellie and Jolene's youngest children.

"Hey," Jolene walked around the table and quickly hugged Ellie and Donna. "When did you get here? And what are you doing with my kids?"

Donna smiled as Jolene bent down to pick up her young son who was now wide awake and looking for attention, his blond head nuzzling against his mother's breast.

"We got here a couple of hours ago. I've been doing my part to man Oswald's booth. I left Kenny and Abel playing with some kids and water guns. And by kids I mean Opie and your old man, who's a real pain in the ass, by the way."

"What did my mentally-challenged old man do now?"

"He called Kenny 'Dirty Harry' and told my son to come talk to him in a couple of years 'cause he sure knew his way around a gun." Donna rolled her eyes. "Which is totally true. My baby shot his ass right between the eyes, but _still_. Then he had the nerve to drop your little bundles of joy on me. Said he was going to help Opie unload the fireworks from the truck. I'm supposed to meet him with the kids by the benches in about thirty minutes, but first we had to make a pit stop. TJ's hungry and wants his milk directly from the cow."

"Is my baby boy hungry? Huh, sweet pea?" Jolene lifted her son up in the air as he gurgled and waved his little fists In the air. "Well, let's get you fed."

While Ellie ran off to find her brother and Abel, Donna followed Jolene behind the booth. The two women sat down on a couple of milk crates while Jolene, using a light weight burping towel she placed over her shoulder and TJ's head, got down to the business of breastfeeding.

The baby's energetic sucking noises managed to penetrate through the barrier of the towel. Donna laughed. "Damn, that boy is one hearty feeder."

"And this surprises you?" Jolene snarked. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree where breasts are concerned, if you know what I mean." The two women snickered to each other.

"How did you get dragged into working?" Donna asked. "I thought you were just going to show up and play Lady Bountiful."

"Actually, it hasn't been too bad. I've enjoyed catching up with people I haven't spoken to in months." Hearing a large vehicle pull into the parking lot behind the fence they were leaning against, Jolene looked over her shoulder. Peering through the wire, Jolene groaned as she saw a school bus of elderly people disembarking.

"Oh shit. It's about to get crazy up in here." Jolene said. "Gemma arranged for the seniors from Oakdale Assisted Living to be bused in. Apparently, this particular set are all compulsive gamblers and will triple our raffle dollars."

"God bless Social Security." Donna intoned solemnly.

"Amen!" Jolene threw up one hand and set both of the women laughing again.

"They accepted our offer, Jo!" Donna blurted, unable to contain herself any longer.

Jolene squealed happily as she gave Donna a one-armed squeeze. "What took you so long to tell me? Those should have been the first words out of your mouth!"

"I haven't told Ope yet. Britt called me on my cell phone about twenty minutes ago. She wants us to come in on Monday." Donna explained.

"We're gonna be neighbors," Jolene smiled as she nudged her head towards Gemma. "All three of us."

"Aw, crap, Jo! Why did you have to go and kill the moment? I had totally blocked that part out."

The two old ladies continued to talk and laugh until the youngest Teller had finally gotten his fill, gave a huge burp and then just as quickly passed out. Donna took TJ from Jolene and placed him into the stroller next to his big sister, who was still knocked out after enjoying her good time with her daddy. "You better get back to work before Drill Sarge comes looking for ya. I'm gonna go deposit your two little angels with their father before TJ decides to go number two."

"Thanks, D." Jolene smiled as the threesome walked off. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

Donna turned back and smiled. "No, but you don't ever need to."

* * *

Jax smiled as he passed a large man stripping off his t-shirt in order to slip on his new purchase. The white t-shirts with "Free Big Otto" in bold black letters were apparently a hot seller as he had already spotted a number of them in the crowd. Big O would be pleased to know he had such a huge following.

Heading over to the Chili booth, Jax saw his old lady and mother sitting down taking a break. "Hey, darlin'," Jax walked around the table to wrap his arms around his old lady, who had jumped up at his greeting. With each hand on one butt cheek, Jax practically lifted her off the ground as he did his best to swallow her tongue. Again. "Looks like you're done here."

"Yep," Jolene smiled, her arms wrapped around his neck. "We're completely sold out and it's only 5:00."

"And if Bobby wasn't such a big hit next door, I'd send his ass back to the Clubhouse to make some more." Gemma snarked as she lit a cigarette.

"Good, then I can steal you away now." Jax waggled his eyebrows lecherously at Jolene, who was nodding her head emphatically.

"Uh, think again, shithead." Gemma got up from her seat. "I still need help cleaning up."

"That's what hang-arounds are for." Jax countered. "I wanna spend some quality time with my old lady before Bobby takes the stage."

"Well, go reel some in because they all took off the second I uttered the words 'clean up'. I need at least three before I'll let Jolene off the hook." Gemma replied.

Jax was tempted to drop his wife onto her feet and point out to his mother the patch on his kutte that said "President", but realizing his intention, Jolene quickly grabbed his face and kissed him. "Did Opie get everything set up?" She asked when she finally pulled away.

"Yeah, the big guy's ready to go boom. He's got Kenny and Abel over there with him."

Jolene eyed her husband warily. "Baby, that's not such a good idea."

"Everything's good, Jo. You know Ope. He won't let the kids get into trouble."

"You better go find Donna then and bring my babies back. She needs to talk to her old man." Jolene suggested.

"Oh shit!" Jax let Jolene slide down and onto her feet. "She hates me enough for teasing her about Kenny joining SAMCRO. Now she's gonna kill me 'cause I told her I'd get the kids from her fifteen minutes ago." Jax started heading over to the middle of the quad.

The controlled chaos of the festival as the citizens of Charming and visitors alike enjoyed the beautiful day was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the rumbling roar of bikes.

Looking back, Jax remembered suddenly feeling the cold fingers of dread creep up his spine as he came to the realization that something was very wrong. Looking through the crowd, he saw his brothers milling about the quad—Juice and Half-Sack arguing over the merits of hard ice cream versus soft serve. Bobby dressed to the hilt in the heat of the day wearing his Elvis get-up. Happy and Tig standing at one of the shooting gallery booths, bankrupting the owner of Jason's Toy Box as they battled to see who could win the most stuffed animals, which they subsequently threw to a group of little girls shouting their encouragement. Clay shooting the shit with the Chief while leaning against a tree.

Everyone was having such a good time. So when it happened, when the full roar of the bikes burst onto the grounds of the Taste of Charming festival and the bullets started flying, no one was prepared.

Jax had made it only about four feet away from his wife when he heard the distinctive pops of gunfire. Turning to see about a dozen Harleys, maybe more, ripping through a sea of screaming people and headed their way, Jax didn't hesitate.

Refusing to let history repeat itself, Jax took a running leap and flung himself against his old lady, knocking both Jolene and his mother to the ground as a rain of bullets blew passed him and tore through the Chili booth.

To her credit, Jolene had managed to hold back a scream as Jax landed on her. "You okay, darlin'?" Cupping her face as she laid on the ground, Jax did a quick scan of her as Jolene nodded, her eyes wide. Making sure Gemma was good, Jax roughly grabbed his mother by the arm and pulled her towards Jolene. "Keep your heads down and stay together." Jax shouted as he reached into his kutte and pulled out his Glock. The President never made it a practice to carry a firearm when he was simply having a good time with his family, but with the shit that had gone down a few days before in Lodi, Jax had made sure he was always packing.

Scrabbling towards the front of the booth, Jax tried to survey the chaos from his vantage point underneath the table and out of the line of gun fire.

It was bedlam, people running, screaming, and trampling each other in their haste to get away from their attackers, who were both on foot as well as on bikes. As one of the riders sped by, Jax's eyes hardened as he recognized the kutte.

_Fuckin' Calaveras!_

Climbing from underneath the table, he motioned to Clay, who had managed to make it over to the SAMCRO booth. "Stay with Mom and Jo!" He instructed before dashing into the crowd.

* * *

Using his body to cover Ellie Winston and another little girl behind the shooting gallery, Tig took another shot, catching a CL member in the hip as his bike spun out of control. Only moments before he had been horsing around with Happy, shooting a BB gun at a string of metal ducks and in the next, he was shooting the mother fuckin' bastards who had invaded a peaceful and happy day.

"Hap! How much ammo you got?" Tig yelled above the screams of the crowd.

"I got two clips, bro." Happy shouted back, taking aim and winging a CL who ran by on foot. "Keep their heads down!" He yelled at the plump elderly man who had been manning the booth as the three girls he had managed to grab cowered beside him. "These assholes are gonna to pay!"

"Hap, cover me. I'm going to see if I can flank them and take the ones coming from the opposite direction." Tig eased out from behind the booth and kept low to the ground, all of his senses and his reflexes on high alert. Refusing to allow himself to think about why this was happening, he edged out around the booth and froze.

In the middle of the square, Tig spotted Donna Winston, struggling as she tried to lift up an overturned stroller. Tig could hear the panicked screams of the children trapped in the stroller and realized who they were.

"Holy fuck!"

Gathering himself to run to her aid, Tig heard the roar of a powerful bike. Turning his head, Tig could see a heavyset biker cutting a path directly towards Donna and Jax Teller's children. Bringing up his gun to take the shot, Tig Trager fired.

And missed.

Horrified, Tig watched as Donna threw herself between the stroller and the bike. The impact sent her flying over the ape-hangers and high into the air. She landed with a solid thud on the paved area of the quad.

Tig's knees gave way as his body sank down onto the grass. He didn't see his brothers grabbing innocent by-standers and getting them to safety. He didn't see the remaining Calaveras speeding off the grounds and high-tailing it out of Charming. All he could see was Donna Winston's neck twisted at an odd angle as blood came out of her nose and mouth.

He could also hear a gut-wrenching scream above all the others as Jolene Teller broke free from her father's hold and ran past him, throwing herself down besides the stroller. Focusing on the anguished young mother, Tig could finally see the tears streaming down her face as she lifted her screaming children out of the mangled stroller, with Jax skidding to a stop next to her.

And finally, he could see his brother Opie, with two young boys as he barreled across the grounds, screaming at the top of his voice.

"Donna! DONNA!"

* * *

"Babe, they're all right. They're okay." Jax's heart was beating in double time against the wall of his chest as he gathered a hysterical Maddy into his arms. Jolene was cradling TJ, who was wailing inconsolably, his tiny face a bloody mess from a split lip.

Jolene almost looked catatonic as Clay and Gemma ran to their family. Motioning to his mother to grab the baby, Jax tried to get Jolene to respond.

"Babe, look at me. Maddy and TJ are fine. You hear me?"

As Jax's words finally penetrated, Jolene first looked to her husband before her eyes started darting around frantically. "Where is she?"

"Baby girl, hold on—" Clay tried to get a hold of her shoulders, but as her eyes shifted to the left, Jolene doubled over as if she had been punched in the gut.

"No! Oh, please God, no!" She screamed as she staggered to her feet. Ignoring the shouts of her old man and father, Jolene made it only about seven feet before literally dropping to her knees at the sight before her eyes.

Opie Winston was cradling the body of his wife. Rocking back and forth, keening and wailing like a wild man, Opie kept pleading. "Come on baby. Wake up now. Everything's okay and you're gonna be fine, but you gotta wake up, baby. Please."

Jolene couldn't hear Abel or his best friend as they held each other and cried. She could only focus on the cries coming from her brother from another mother as he nearly crushed the woman he held in his arms.

Finally, making it to his side, Jolene placed a hand on his arm. She gazed into the unseeing eyes of the woman she had known for over 20 years. As the tears poured down her cheeks, Jolene tried to get through to her beloved Sasquatch.

"Ope." She whispered. "Opie, please."

But Opie was in another place, so far removed from anything sane, he couldn't hear her.

All he could do was to hold his wife. And cry.


	3. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.**

* * *

Opie Winston sat on the comfy, but worn couch in his living room. The couch had been the first big purchase for the Winstons when they had moved into their home. Opie remembered the argument he and Donna had before he had finally caved and they ended up buying it. At the time, he had told Donna that he hadn't paid that much for his first ride, but Donna had insisted that it would be the best buy considering its sturdiness. It would last them forever, she had said, especially with his big ass crashing down on it every night.

And she had been right, too. The couch had stood the test of time. It had been big enough for him to sleep on whenever Donna got so pissed she would actually kick him out of bed. It had weathered the storm of two babies, who had grown up too fast and quickly transformed into kids who loved to rough-house. And it had been the center of many of their movie nights, with usually three out of four of them falling asleep before the movie was actually over.

But now, there was one important person missing from her favorite corner of the couch. Opie couldn't even make himself look in that direction as he cuddled his sobbing daughter in one arm and his son in the other. The room was so quiet, so dark, and so chilling, with the only sound being that of his children's cries.

As quiet tears poured down his face, Opie grieved for the woman that had been the love of his life and his best friend for over twelve years. And all he wanted more than having his wife with him again was the blood of the one he held responsible.

His brother.

* * *

The small two-bedroom house was dark and silent.

It was his place. His retreat from the world. Nobody ever came over and he never invited anyone to come around. And he had one hard and fast rule:

_Never bring bitches home with you._

And that's how he lived. Not even his brothers came by. He preferred it that way, actually. It was the perfect and necessary retreat for a sometimes solitary man.

Alexander "Tig" Trager sat on his leather couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him on a large coffee table, his Glock and a half a bottle of Jack next to his feet as he smoked a joint.

In spite of his hermit-like existence when he was there, the room was nicely decorated and didn't scream ex-Marine or outlaw biker. Done in black and different shades of brown, the living room, also the largest room in the house, had a comfy feel to it. No expense had been spared on the leather furniture, insisting that in addition to looking good, his living space had to be comfortable as well. The small refrigerator next to sofa housed cold drinks and there were several floor lamps, which he used when he wasn't in the mood for the track lighting overhead. Scattered around the room and covering the gleaming hardwood floors were area rugs ranging in shape and design, but somehow not looking out of place with one another. The bookcases flanking his state of the art entertainment center housed his collection of worn paperback spy novels, hardcover books on modern weaponry and warfare and an impressive collection of classic porn magazines. One shelf had been dedicated to the numerous medals he had earned while in the service of his country.

Tig had decided to buy the house to entice his old lady into joining him in Charming after it became obvious that she had no intention of doing so. Instead, she had taken their two daughters for an "extended visit" with her parents in Oregon. After living in a trailer at the beginning of their relationship, they had eventually moved into an apartment in Tacoma when his first daughter had been born. Always promising to buy her a house, Tig could never really afford to follow through on that promise because Tacoma, while a big charter, wasn't relatively well off.

When Big Otto recommended that he take over as SAMCRO's SAA, he made the jump mostly because with it came the opportunity to sit at the table and because Charming promised to be the perfect environment for raising two small daughters. In hindsight, leaving Colleen and the girls behind while he got settled into SAMCRO had been his first mistake.

Going back after her had been his second.

After weeks morphed into months, Tig rode up to Oregon to see what bug had crawled up his old lady's ass to die. He remembered how his fiery red-headed wife stood on her father's porch screaming at him, with their two girls peeking through the window that faced the street. While Colleen was fed up with the runs, his stints in prison, and the dirty whores at the Clubhouse, it was his girlfriend that had driven her to the breaking point.

Months before jumping charters, Tig had gotten involved with a little chica who worked in a convenience store off the SR-509 halfway between Tacoma and Seattle. Hooking up with the pretty Latina had become a pretty regular deal, until he accidently killed her cat. He hadn't done it on purpose, not even realizing he had run the little fleabag over. It was her own damn fault for letting the cat roam the neighborhood anyway. Still, the bitch had the nerve to drive to the Trager home and threw the dead cat on their doorstep, effectively traumatizing his little girls.

Waiting until he made his move to Charming several weeks later, Colleen had packed up their daughters, Dawn and Fawn, and headed back home to Oregon. At first, Tig had shrugged it off, figuring that it was just a ploy to try and get his ass back in line. Truth was, Colleen was done with the humiliation of having his cheap whores flaunted in her face.

Tig was pretty much one-dimensional when it came to his view on women. They were either mother figures or whores. He really had a difficult time finding a middle ground. His old lady Colleen had been a sweetbutt—read "whore"—when they first met. She had been his favorite, too. That is, until he knocked her up and, in a moment of weakness, married her, changing her status to old lady. After she became a mother, first to Dawn and then, two years later, Fawn, the switch in Tig's head clicked. He quickly found himself no longer interested in banging the mother of his kids and suddenly, it was open season on anything with two sets of lips.

He actually and sincerely thought that he had been doing Colleen a favor by taking his animal-like need for constant sexual release elsewhere. She had it tough enough as it was, practically raising two small children alone as he was almost always on the road. Unfortunately, he was the only one to see it that way.

Even though the months of separation quickly turned into years, Colleen never mentioned getting a divorce and Tig never offered it as an option. As far as he was concerned, she was still his old lady. Not that he would ever say it out loud, not even to Colleen herself, but he still loved that bitch.

Now, sitting in the room that Gemma had so thoughtfully decorated for him, Tig was finally coming to grips with the fact that Colleen had tried so hard to get him to understand. When you base your decisions according to how it would benefit your dick, the chances of making fucked up choices jumped exponentially.

 _Too bad for my brother Opie I learned that lesson too fuckin' late_ , Tig thought as he sat on his couch, not even feeling the tracks of his tears as they ran down his face. _My brother's without an old lady and his kids are without their mother. And it's my fuckin' fault._

It was 5:00 on Sunday morning and for the last four hours, Tig had been sitting on his sofa, contemplating the cold hard steel sitting on his coffee table. He didn't really remember how he ended up at his place. A lot of what happened after the attack was very hazy, but it was starting to come back.

In his mind's eye he could see Jax and Clay prying Opie away from Donna's body. He saw Happy holding Opie's daughter back as she fought to make it to her father as she heard his agonized screams. He saw a grief stricken Jolene and Gemma trying to comfort Abel and Kenny. He could see officers from Charming PD and the Sanwa Sheriff's Department swarming the quad, putting up crime scene tape, as the medical examiner covered Donna's body with a tarp. Reporters with camera crews doing their best to annoy the emergency workers trying to give the wounded first aid by sticking microphones in their faces for a sound bite.

And he saw the rage reflected in the eyes of all of his brothers, but none more so than his President.

Tig had looked into the eyes of his brother and he knew—and Jax knew that he knew—why the Calaveras had crashed the festival. They had been looking to retaliate because of the shit that Tig had stirred up in Lodi only days before.

Alexander Trager was not a pussy. He had been a Marine and pulled two tours in his short-lived career, one in Honduras and the other in the Persian Gulf. He had seen and done some shit that would send grown men screaming into the night. There was no way a man could survive those experiences without it changing him. Not unlike other soldiers before him who had faced armed combat, he had returned a harder man, but one who could get shit done. That was why he had patched in. He needed the brotherhood and camaraderie he had known as a Marine, but most importantly, he needed an outlet for the rage his experiences had left behind for him to deal with. Channeling that rage, he had quickly become a Man of Mayhem, earning him a reputation that put him on SAMCRO's radar. He had proven that he could make the hard calls and be the enforcer that was needed. He could protect and serve.

But not yesterday. Not when one shot was all it would have taken to save the life of an innocent woman.

Eyeing the gun on the coffee table, Tig couldn't lie to himself. It would be so easy to pick up the piece and blow his fucking head off. But that was the easy way, the coward's way. And Tig Trager was not known for looking to take the easy way and he sure as shit wasn't a coward.

So instead of eating his gun like some pussy, Tig picked up the Glock and shoved it back into the holster under his kutte. He was going to have to suck it up and do probably the hardest thing he's ever had to do in his life. Somehow, he was going to have to find a way for his brother to forgive him.

And if he could do that, maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to forgive himself.

* * *

" _Tig killed Pozo Fuentes. He was one of Salazar's lieutenants." T.O. Cross was saying._

Sitting in his man cave chain-smoking his way through his second pack of the day, Jax Teller listened to the Intel that the President of the Grim Bastards had been able to obtain.

"That was the grease stain on the highway?" He asked.

" _Yep. He got crushed between his bike and the divider. Some real ugly shit, man. He was also Salazar's cousin." T.O. replied._

"Fuck!" Jax cursed under his breath.

" _Yeah. We heard about the shit that went down at that dive. Combined with Pozo's death, that beaner wanted some payback. Salazar is a known hot-head, thinks he has some big cojones, but he ain't shit without his crew backing him up."_

Jax used the hand holding his cigarette to push back strands of blond hair that were brushing against his forehead. "I can accept wanting to avenge a fallen brother and I'd probably go bat shit crazy myself if anyone so much as looked at my old lady sideways, but a fuckin' drive-by? Taking aim at innocents, women, and children? What the fuck did that accomplish? If he wanted the Sons, the asshole should have come straight after us."

" _I know, man. I'm real sorry about how it went down for y'all. The fact is we placed that order for the MAC-10s because we've been seeing a lot more Mayan and CL activity in Lodi." T.O. explained with his easy, relaxed drawl. "We needed the guns to protect our territory. The dope and pussy game is hard enough without the Lord of the Brown steppin' on it. So what's your next move?"_

 _Next move_ , Jax thought. Right now, the only move he could think about wanting to make was collapsing into his bed. Between holding shit together at the scene, the hospital, and the Clubhouse, Jax hadn't closed his eyes once in more than twenty-four hours. "We're focusing on Opie and his family right now. Bury his old lady, regroup, and then we plan for retaliation."

" _No doubt. You know that the Bastards have your back, right?"_

"And I appreciate it, T.O. We could really use your help in gathering some more Intel. Where to find Salazar and all the crew who participated in the attack, what their strength is, and on which side Alvarez falls on this."

" _You know me, Lander and the crew will do what we can for you. As for King Beaner, if you don't want this to turn into an all-out war, I suggest you set a meet and soon."_

"Thanks for the advice, T.O."

As Jax hung up his pre-pay, he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

He needed to hold his family and his Club together, but how? Opie had virtually locked himself away in his house with his kids. Not even Piney could get him to open the door. Jax's own children were devastated. His youngest had just come home from the hospital a few hours earlier after having his upper lip repaired by a plastic surgeon. Even though Jolene had managed to quickly pull her shit together and had made him proud to have her as his Queen, Jax could see it coming. The moment the shock wore off and the reality set in. The aftermath was only just beginning and already Jax was weary and bone-tired.

On the bright side—and that could only be said with tongue-firmly-in-cheek—of the dozen Calaveras who attacked, six of them had been rounded up between Unser and his deputies and SAMCRO. Three of them had been wounded, one with life-threatening injuries, and were currently under guard at St. Thomas. The rest had escaped, including Hector Salazar and that fat bastard who had run down and killed Donna.

Jax swiped at the sudden tears that sprung to his eyes. Although they had had their issues during Jolene's exile from Charming—and Jax was solely to blame for not believing that she had no clue where his old lady had taken off to—Donna Winston had meant more to him than anyone would ever know. Aside from being his best friend's old lady, Jax admired the deep connection and the loving friendship between Jolene and Donna. They couldn't have been closer had they been sisters and even though they had their disagreements, they never ended the day still angry at each other. Jax had many reasons to be thankful for the love Donna had for Jolene, especially when he needed help in keeping his often pig-headed old lady in line during her pregnancies.

What was truly overwhelming him at the moment, however, was the obvious love she had for all of his children. Donna had given her life to protect Maddy and TJ when he couldn't be there. He would not allow her death and that sacrifice to be in vain. He would do whatever necessary to avenge Donna's death and get justice for his best friend.

No matter what the cost.

Shoving his pre-pay and cigarettes into the pocket of his jeans, Jax made his way through the eerily quiet house and headed upstairs. He had been on the phone since he had brought Jolene and TJ home from the hospital. The plan was to pick Abel and Maddy up from Gemma's and bring them home before heading back to the Clubhouse, but first, he wanted to check on his old lady again.

Not finding her in their bedroom, Jax headed down the hall to the nursery. Approaching the doorway, he could hear Jolene softly weeping. He furrowed his brow, the sight of his old lady sitting in the sliding rocker with her head in her hands as she cried breaking his heart.

"Babe, you a'ight?" He asked softly, but still managed to startle Jolene, who quickly wiped away her tears, almost as if she were embarrassed.

Jolene nodded as she pushed stray strands of dark curls behind her ear. "I'm fine." She said, quickly getting up and walking over to TJ's crib.

Stepping into the nursery, Jax approached her from behind. Putting both hands on her waist, Jax pressed several kisses to the side of her face, her cheeks still wet from her tears. "How's little man doing?"

TJ was curled up on his side underneath his favorite blanket fast asleep, his long, blond eyelashes fluttering as it appeared he was dreaming. His injured lip was still swollen and gleaming from the thin layer of ointment applied to the stitches.

Jolene shook her head slightly. "I've spent the last two hours trying to get him to feed, but he can't latch on. I tried a bottle, couldn't do it. Tried spoon feeding him, didn't want it. He kept nuzzling at my breast, but he'd start crying as soon as he tried to suck. Fuckin' ointment is supposed to numb the pain, but it's not fuckin' working, Jax. My baby's hungry and I can't feed him." She sounded desperate and defeated. With her hand on her forehead, Jolene started crying again.

Gathering her into his arms, Jax held her tight, not knowing what to say or do. Curling her arms around his waist, Jolene sighed and the sound reeked of exhaustion.

"I'll call the Doc, see if there's something else we can do."

"I already did." She pulled away. "He suggested trying to numb it with ice, but that only worked for a minute or so at a time. TJ finally gave up and fell asleep."

"Babe," Jax cupped her face in his hands. "Take a cue from little man and take a nap. Try again later."

Jolene was shaking her head. "No, I'm fine. Besides, I can't nap with Abel and Maddy home."

"We'll let 'em stay with Gemma for a little bit longer," Jax suggested, but Jolene was shaking her head vehemently.

"No! I haven't seen them since last night."

"Jo—"

"Jax, I said no. I want my babies home with me."

"Okay, darlin', okay." Jax conceded. "I'll go get them. I'll call Neeta too, see if she can come over for a little bit."

"No." Jolene insisted. "I said I was fine. I don't need you coddling me like I'm some fragile doll."

Jax grimaced, fighting the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Since when is taking care of my old lady a bad thing?"

"It's not," Jolene looked up at Jax with wide, moist green eyes. "But that's not what I need right now. What I need is to figure out a way to feed my baby when he wakes up."

"You need way more than that, darlin'. First, you need to let yourself grieve."

"Grieve? And feel like a fuckin' hypocrite?" Jolene was incredulous. Jax could see her fighting hard to maintain control of her emotions. She was focusing on some random point on the front of his t-shirt, unblinking as she physically forced herself to reabsorb the tears that were threatening. "I lost my best friend yesterday, Jax. You do realize what the alternative would have been, right? How can I properly grieve for someone I loved like a sister when I am so grateful that my children are alive because she isn't? How can I do that? Please tell me because I don't think I can ever face Opie and Kenny and Ellie ever again. I can't let them see how happy I am that my babies are alive, not when the core of their family has been ripped away from them."

Jax was shaking his head. "I can't think of anything to say that will make you feel better because I know nothing will. Trust me, I've been where you are now. When Tommy died, I couldn't understand why him and not me. We were both born with the same defect. Why did I get to live and he didn't? I still don't have the answer to that and I know I never will. I still miss him too, but he wasn't dead because of me. It wasn't my fault, just like this isn't your fault, babe. It's okay to grieve and be grateful at the same time. Our kids are alive because Donna wanted them to be. She didn't think twice about jumping into the path of that bike because she was a mother too and she knew you would do the same for her babies."

Looking up into Jax's own sad eyes, Jolene was suddenly overwhelmed as she felt a wave of grief wash over her. She was sobbing and for some reason, the sound of her own crying sounded absurd to her ears and before she knew it, she was laughing as well. Feeling her knees buckle, Jolene felt her legs give way and then she realized that Jax had swooped her up into his arms. Holding onto him for dear life, Jolene buried her face into the crook of his neck and let the floodgates open. Jax's heart was thudding in his chest. His old lady was hysterical, laughing and crying with the same voracity.

Not knowing what else to do, Jax carried her to their bedroom. Gently placing her on the bed, Jolene crawled into a fetal position and continued bawling. It was a devastating sight to see. Digging out his pre-pay, Jax called Dr. Negron and then Neeta. Less than an hour later, Jolene had finally succumbed to the sedative her doctor had made a house call on a Sunday to administer. With Neeta now watching over his two shell-shocked older children, Jax crawled into bed with his wife, and cradled her in his arms as she slept.

Taking a bit of his own advice, Jax let himself grieve for Donna, for Opie, and for Jolene, all the while rejoicing that his wife was alive and safe in his arms.

* * *

The mood at the table was a somber one, the fact that the chair to Jax's left was currently empty speaking volumes.

"How's Ope doing?" Half-Sack asked the founding member of the Sons sitting to his left.

"How the fuck do you think he's doing?" Piney growled. "He's in fuckin' bloody pieces!"

Clay, sitting on Piney's left put a hand on the old man's shoulder. "We know, Piney, and we're with you on this. We are going to figure out what we're doing to right this wrong, but first we should listen to what our President has to say."

Jax nodded his thanks at his father-in-law and cleared his throat. "What happened yesterday has the serious potential to blow back on us. It's all over the news, and we've got both Charming PD and the Sanwa Sheriffs on our doorstep. Juice, any good news on that front? Has that situation changed at all?"

His Intelligence Officer shook his head. "Nope, they're still outside. Two squad cars, _not_ Charming PD, and we also got a news crew circling the block. Four Nomads arrived this morning and I sent them over to Ope's, have them guarding the house and keeping the vultures away. I also sent a couple of Prospects to bring Mary down from Galt. She's with Ope and the kids now."

Jax nodded. "Opie called me about an hour ago. Unser told him that the County should release Donna's body by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. Right now, the Club needs to be there for Ope. Retaliation is going to happen, but Opie needs to grieve, to bury his wife, and then we can—"

Piney slammed a fist on the Redwood table. "Fuck grieving! Those Calaveras bastards came into our town, _our fucking' town_ and killed my daughter-in-law because of that fucking' bastard!" Pointing a finger at the SAA, who sat stone-faced in his chair, Piney continued. "Your dick just got the mother of my grandchildren killed! This is all your damn fault!"

Clay tried to rein in Piney's temper. "Brother, I know you're hurtin', but this is not the time for this—"

The older man leaped out of his chair. "Then when is it time, huh, Clay? If it were Jolene lying cold and dead in a morgue right now, Jax would have called every fuckin' SOA charter down by now and Lodi would be wiped off the face of the earth by this time tomorrow!"

"Piney!" Jax shouted, pounding an angry fist on the table, forgetting momentarily about the gavel. "There will be retribution! Salazar and his crew will pay, but—"

"I'm not sitting around to hear this shit!" Piney made his way around the table. "There are no buts, Jax! My son, your VP needs you! If you can't or _won't_ do shit about them wetbacks, then I fuckin' will!" He shouted as he threw open the Chapel doors and stomped out.

"Shyte, bruthas. This is a fuckin' bloody fix we're in." Chibs ran a hand through his graying hair.

"Half-Sack," Jax ordered. "I want you to keep tabs on the old man. Don't let him out of your sight."

As Half-Sack ran out of the Chapel, closing the door behind him, Jax leaned back in his chair.

"For the next few days, maybe even weeks, we're gonna have too much on our fuckin' plates to handle, especially with as much heat as we have on us right now. I know we're all hurting for our brother and his family, but we need to maintain cool heads." Jax counseled. "I have to believe that the fall out is gonna hit the Club and the town sideways and we need to be prepared. But first, we have a funeral to prepare for. Not only was Donna Winston my VP's old lady, she was a good friend, and she died protecting my kids. Juice, Bobby, work with Ma in putting something worthy of Donna together, no expense spared, a'ight? I got this, so don't bother Ope with any details, nothing. You have questions, come to me or Clay."

"Any word on Hap?" Bobby asked.

"According to Unser, he's due to be released today." Jax replied. "Filthy Phil, grab the Prospect and head down to the station house to pick him up. Call me first sign they're yanking Happy's chain about letting him go, got it?"

"Yes, sir." Filthy Phil nodded and pushed himself away from the table and left the Chapel.

"I spoke to T.O. before heading down here. He managed to pull together some quick and dirty Intel." Jax briefly ran down the information T.O. had passed on regarding Salazar and the CL. "The Bastards have pledged to help us out if we need them. Right now, what we need most is more Intel. T.O.'s working to gather names, addresses, where their old ladies work, where their kids go to school, anything because, at this point, nothing is off-limits and nothing is off the table. While we wait, I think we need to have a sit-down with Alvarez, check out his head space. Tig, reach out and set something up for sooner rather than later."

His SAA nodded, but said nothing.

Jax slammed the gavel down and those patches still remaining at the table silently exited the Chapel. All except for Tig and Jax.

"The old man is right, you know." Tig said quietly.

Turning his head, Jax looked into the cold blue eyes of his SAA. "Tig," Jax started, but was cut off.

"This shit is my fault, Jax. There's no way around it, brother. You know it. I know it. Everyone at the table knows it. If I hadn't been thinking with my dick, that Pozo piece of shit would still be alive and so would Donna."

"A'ight," Jax folded his arms. "I agree. Some of this shit does fall on you, but that girl you banged, you had no idea who she was. Blame the bitch for lying to save her own ass and the shithead whose ego couldn't let it go and set this whole nightmare in motion. While you're at it, cut me off a piece of that guilt because I was the one who made the call that we should lay low. I underestimated the little shit and he showed me he had enough reach to think he could get away with this shit. Had I reached out and looked for a way to make peace, I wouldn't need to have my old lady sedated in order to ease her own misplaced guilt. What's done is done, bro. All we can do now is to deal with the aftermath, but to do that, I'm gonna need you whole and by my side. You think you can handle that?"

Tig looked at the determined younger man. "I _know_ I can handle that."

"Good," Jax stood up. "Then let's get to work."


	4. The Final Goodbye

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I _do_ , however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Putting her mug of coffee down on the counter in the kitchen, Mary Winston hobbled into the living room, slowly making her way to the front door. After weeks without an attack, her gout had decided to act up last night, her first night with her son and his family. She could kick herself for leaving her cane behind in Galt. Jax Teller had called her with the terrible news about Donna late on Saturday. It had been so unexpected that Mary had still been in shock when the two young Prospects came knocking on her door the next day to escort her to Charming.

Finally reaching the front door, Mary slowly pulled it open thinking that it had to be one of the four fearsome Nomads sitting guard duty outside Opie's house that was knocking on the door. Whenever one of the Winstons' neighbors or a SAMCRO old lady had stopped by with food deliveries or baked dishes, they had been prevented from going any further than the front lawn.

"Hey, beautiful." Mary did what amounted to a double-take at Piney's greeting. Stepping into the house, Piney held his arms open for his ex-wife. It took her a bit, but finally Mary allowed herself to walk into them, trying to control her sudden tears.

"You're hallucinating. I haven't been beautiful in a long time, you old fart." Mary pulled away to look her ex-husband in the eye. _He looks tired_.

At 58, Mary had long ago left her youth, her figure and her beauty behind. Finally fed up with the outlaw life, Mary had left her husband behind as well, taking their young son with her when he was 16, only to have him runaway and come back to his father.

 _If only he had stayed with me, maybe this wouldn't have happened._ But it had and now she was mourning the loss of a good woman and loving mother of her grandchildren.

"Where are our boy and grandkids?"

Mary sighed as she slowly led the way back to the kitchen. It was barely 11 a.m. and she was already physically drained and emotionally exhausted, having spent a considerable amount of time comforting her grandchildren. Opie, on the other hand, had barely said two words to her, having always been so much closer to Piney.

"He's out back, and the kids are with him."

Piney reached out to gently squeeze her chin. As he looked into her eyes, he almost sighed. He was never good with the touchy feely shit an old lady needed to hear, but he knew he needed to try now.

"Look, darling. The broads. The drinking. I'm really sorry about all that shit. You gotta take care of our boy. He's gonna need you more than ever." Bending over, Piney laid a long, lingering kiss on an astonished Mary before heading towards the patio doors that led to the backyard.

Watching the old man head out towards their son, Mary shook her head in disbelief.

_Does he have The Cancer?_

* * *

Piney paused as he stepped outside. The sun was shining brightly, almost blinding him and keeping him from seeing two feet in front of him. Using his ham hock hand to block out the sunshine, Piney squinted and finally caught a glimpse his boy.

Standing behind the set of swings, Opie Winston gently pushed his young daughter while Kenny sat in the swing next to her, staring bleakly into space. The family looked so lost, so forlorn that it nearly brought tears to the eyes of the crusty old biker. Walking over at a slow pace, Piney opened his arms to embrace his son, who on catching sight of him, walked over to wrap his bear arms around his father.

The two men silently embraced each other for some time, the shared pain between them palpable to anyone with eyes. Finally, Piney pulled away and rested a large hand on Opie's shoulder.

"I am so sorry, son."

Opie nodded his head. "I know, Pop. I know."

Nodding towards his grandchildren, Piney asked, "How they holding up?"

Opie sighed as he quickly brushed away errant tears from his eyes. "Not good. They're still in shock." He ran a hand through his shoulder length dark red hair. "How was Church? Anything been decided?"

"Don't you worry about that now, son. It's gonna get took care of. Right now, you need to be there for your kids."

"I know. It's just so hard, Pop." Opie let out a sigh and nearly broke under the weight of it. "Is this my fault? Did I do this to her because of the Life?"

Piney grabbed Opie's broad shoulders with both hands. "Damn it, boy, don't even start with that mess! You put the blame where it belongs, on that piece of shit MC. That's where you need to focus your rage."

 _And Tig, the fuckin' idiot who brought this shit storm to our front door_ , Piney thought grimly _._

"Son, I love this Club. Our brotherhood is what saved my life after I came home from the war fucked in the head. Losing Donna, this is your 'Nam, boy and you need this Club to prop you up when all you want to do is lay down and die." Piney advised. "So now's not the time to second guess the choices you made in your life. I know it's hard, Ope, but you need to be there for Ellie and Kenny, give 'em the love and support they need. That's what your old lady would want. She was a good and kind-hearted sweetheart of a girl, who loved you and those kids above anything else. Sometimes, I wonder how you ended up with her in the first place." He teased.

"I did good, huh?" Opie managed to smile through his tears.

"Yeah, you did. I wasn't too sure at first. I thought she might be a little too prissy to fit in, but she surprised the hell out of everybody. She stepped up, dealt with the Club shit and raised two fine children. In her own way, she was a fierce old lady, who went out of her way to protect the ones she loved. She died a noble death, Ope, protecting the lives of two small innocents. You remember that and you teach that to your children. Understand?"

"I will, Pop."

Piney spoke gruffly. "Now, you go on in. Take a shower. You reek, boy. Let me speak to my grandchildren for a while."

As Opie nodded and slowly headed to the house, Piney watched him go and then turned to look at his heartbroken grandchildren.

_I better go say what needs to be said and get out of here. I have some work to do._

* * *

The dilapidated Lodi Industrial Park located on East Vine Street in South Lodi had once been the site of several flourishing businesses, including a flour mill and tortilla factory. After Arturo Fuentes, the owner of the mill and factory passed away, his family considered selling the businesses as well as the property in order to return to their native Mexico. The recession, however, had hit this part of Lodi hard and killed the Fuentes family's dream of living in the lap of luxury back in Oaxaca. Unable to find a buyer, the park sat dormant for several years until Hector Salazar came along.

The President of the Calaveras had enough foresight to see the benefits of owning property in order to legitimize his growing MC. Although their share in the Lodi drug trade was small, it was profitable and enabled the CL to buy the vacated commercial space. Even though the Fuentes family had no interest in retaining ownership of what they considered to be a dying business, Salazar offered them 50% of the profits from the mill and factory in order to run the day-to-day operations, thus keeping the business legitimate for the CL.

The property had several buildings on 3½-acres. With the flour mill and tortilla factory operating in the forefront, several smaller buildings located deeper within the property housed the CL's real money-making enterprises, including a chop shop and an underground meth lab.

Since the incident in Charming, the Calaveras' Clubhouse was under constant surveillance by the San Joaquin Sheriff's Department. Unwilling to risk going to their homes as well, Hector and the five other participants who had managed to escape had holed themselves up in the only remaining vacant building used to house machinery and tools for the mill and factory.

"Pres, coming back here was a mistake, but leaving now is just plain stupid." The young CL lieutenant said as he followed Salazar out of the rundown warehouse as he and his crew headed towards their parked bikes.

Whipping around, Hector Salazar faced off with the younger man. "Who the fuck you think you calling stupid?" Salazar sneered. "I'd rather be stupid than some puto bitch like you any day, so don't question my judgment." He waved off Roscoe Cabrera's counsel.

Roscoe flashed Salazar with an angry glare, but quickly got his temper in check. "I'm no bitch, Hector. I told you I had no problem with going after the Sons for what they did to your old lady and Pozo. I just couldn't back you up when innocent women and children are involved. I may be no angel and I may have a lot to account for when I die," Roscoe paused to cross himself like the good Catholic boy his mother had raised him as. "But I'm not Edgar, who don't give a shit that he killed a mother of two, and she was the SAMCRO VP's old lady to boot. You think that shit don't have consequences?"

"I was aiming for the stroller, but the dumb bitch got in the way." Edgar laughed riotously.

Roscoe shook his head in disbelief. "You stupid fuck, you think that's funny? I know your fat ass probably hasn't been laid in a long while, but I'm sure there are some half-retarded bastards out there rocking your DNA. How would you feel if someone did that to them? Or your mother?"

"Fuck you, alright?" Edgar charged, but Salazar put his arm out to stop him.

"Hey, what's done is done." Salazar reasoned. "The CL had a point to make. We are a legitimate MC, brother. What that crazy-eyed bastard did to Luisa was bad enough, but after what happened to Pozo, the Sons didn't even bother to reach out to make amends. They think we're a bunch of nobodies, just a puppet MC doing shit work for the Mayans. I had to show 'em that we have enough balls to command their respect."

Although Salazar wanted to believe in the veracity of his words, he was quickly coming to the realization that Roscoe had a point. At the very least, that attack on Charming should have been done in plain clothes because there was never a question in his mind that the CL were going to strike back on the Sons own home turf.

The plan had been to grab the POS responsible for molesting his old lady and killing his cousin at the SAMCRO Clubhouse, but their Intel had been bad. The lot had been closed for business because of some festival in town. They couldn't even get close enough to firebomb the Clubhouse.

Although his VP Edgar tried to advise him against attempting the grab at the festival, Hector was too bent on revenge to see that there were too many people and too many SOA kuttes wandering in the crowd. In the panicked frenzy, they couldn't even get a lock on the SAMCRO SAA. Instead, they were faced with a fleeing crowd of people getting in their way, which made them easy targets when the Sons, as well as Charming PD, opened fire on them.

The fact that some woman died hadn't really bothered Hector in the least. It hadn't even bothered him that she had been an officer's old lady. It must have been the adrenaline rush at the time because now Salazar was shitting bricks. He was going underground for a little bit, at least until the heat from the cops cooled off a bit. With half of his crew locked up or still in the hospital and the other half divided on what had gone down on Saturday, Salazar couldn't count on his brothers to watch his back. He needed to lay low until he could figure out his next move.

"What about Alvarez? He's called here three times already. We were supposed to be transporting a shipment of H in two days. What should I tell him?" Roscoe asked.

Salazar rubbed his chin as he gave it some thought. "You know what? Tell him I'll contact him soon." Hector realized too late that even though the Mayans had an uneasy relationship with SAMCRO, the last thing Alvarez would want to do is to stir up shit that might affect the Mayans' H trade. Alvarez was most definitely going to be a problem, especially since the CL had ignored a direct order from the Mayan President prohibiting retaliation against the Sons.

Nodding towards his VP, Hector and his remaining crew pulled out of their parking spots and headed towards the large gate that was kept closed at all times and which led into the industrial park. But before Salazar could give the order to open the gates, a pick-up truck suddenly burst through the chain link fence as though it was made of paper.

"OH SHIT!" Hector screamed as the truck headed directly for him at high speed.

* * *

"OH SHIT!" Half-Sack shouted as he desperately revved his engine.

Having patched into SAMCRO four years ago, Kip "Half-Sack" Epps took his duties for the Club and his brothers seriously. Prospecting for SAMCRO had been worse than his stint as an Airborne Ranger with the 75th Regiment. Having shed buckets of blood, sweat, and tears for the Club, Kip had earned not only his top rocker but the respect of everyone in the Clubhouse. Enough respect that he had gone from Prospect one day to a full patch who was asked to sit at the table the next. He had no intention of letting his President down.

But as he saw Piney's pickup truck turn off the road and into an old industrial park, Half-Sack knew that the shit, and quite possibly the respect he had earned in the Clubhouse, were about to go down the toilet.

Transfixed, Half-Sack watched in horror as Piney's truck rammed down the gate and sped towards the six bikes with ape hangers heading towards him and fumbled for his pre-pay.

They were going to need help and fast.

* * *

Piney suddenly hit the brakes and swerved to the right, swinging his truck around in a fast and furious U-turn so that it was facing the entrance. Throwing his door open, Piney stepped out with an AK-47.

Taking aim, Piney Winston, member of the First 9 of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original, roared. "Die, you mother fuckin' wetback scum!" And he opened fire.

Their fight or flight instinct kicking in full throttle was the only reason the CL President and VP made it through the first assault. Reacting quickly, they both swerved their bikes to the left and right, and hightailed it to the back of the property, leaving the four other riders exposed. They didn't stand a chance as Piney cut them down in seconds.

Cursing as he saw two of the CL crew getting away, Piney threw the AK into the truck and was about to give chase when the passenger side door was yanked open. Pulling his Glock from underneath his denim kutte, Piney nearly cut his young brother in two.

"Damn it, boy! What the fuck are you doing?" He growled.

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing, old man? Have you lost your damn mind?" Half-Sack asked, leaping into the truck just as Piney threw the truck into reverse. Hanging on for dear life, Half-Sack managed to slam the door shut, saving himself from being thrown from the pickup as Piney spun it around.

Gunning the engine, Piney pushed the truck as fast as it could go and was hot on the heels of Salazar and his VP.

"I'm taking care of fuckin' business! What the fuck you think I'm doing, asshole?!"

The younger man held onto the dashboard as the truck bucked and swerved in its chase. "You know that this isn't what the Prez wanted, right?" He shouted.

"I was co-founder of this Club before JT shot out the sperm that made our current President! Ask me if I give a shit!"

* * *

Opie Winston was pushing his bike faster than he's ever had since the first day he owned it. By the time they got Half-Sack's call, he, Jax and their brothers were already on the road heading for Lodi. His wily old man had managed to hoodwink Juice into giving up Intel he had gathered regarding the one legitimate business the Calaveras had on the books. Showing too much interest on the specs of the industrial park that was the location of El Toro Rojo Flour and Tortillas, it finally dawned on Juice, after Piney had taken to the road, just what the old man had been up to. Knowing that the CL Clubhouse would be off-limits as a hideout, Piney had figured he had nothing to lose by checking out the industrial park.

_Stupid, stubborn old man! I was in such a fuckin' stupor. I should have realized what he intended to do. I've already lost Donna. I can't lose Pop, too._

As the last thought seized his heart in his chest, Opie Winston pushed even harder, hoping to close the gap between him and Lodi before it was too late.

* * *

Having managed to put a little distance between them and their pursuer, Hector and Edgar burst through the back entrance of the property and frenetically raced down the alleyway. Familiar with the area, the plan was to stick to side streets in the sparsely populated area, which would lead them to the next major intersection and then the highway. Unfortunately, they were having trouble putting distance between them and Piney, as if the old man knew exactly where they were headed.

"We're never gonna lose this puto!" Salazar yelled over the roar of their bikes.

"We need to split up! Go to Luisa!" Edgar yelled back. "I got this, hermano. I got a cousin in Gilroy. I'll chill out there, call you tomorrow."

"Esta bien! Ten cuidado, hermano!"

As Hector pulled ahead and away, Edgar maneuvered his bike to the side as he heard the truck pulling closer.

And pulled out his 9 millimeter.

* * *

"Piney, we lost one of them! Where's the other one?" Half-Sack yelled as they saw a lone rider in the middle of the road. "Oh shit!" He yelled as he saw the sun glinting off the steel in the man's hand.

There simply was no room to turn the truck around in the narrow alley and Piney was going too fast to stop and back up. Half-Sack heard the first couple of shots hit the grill of the truck.

"Piney, fuck!" Half-Sack yelled as the old man continued bearing down on Edgar, hoping to mow him down before he had the chance to readjust his aim.

Pulling his Glock 38, Half-Sack managed to squeeze off a few rounds aimed at the man on the bike as he felt several more shots hit the truck. Quickly ducking below the dashboard, Half-Sack heard a bullet shatter the windshield, followed by a succession of rounds. Feeling the truck come to a sudden stop and hearing the roar of the bike as the lone rider pulled away, he looked over to see how Piney was doing.

"Oh my God." He whispered.

* * *

"Oh shit, Pop." Opie swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked at his father. "Why?"

Piney Winston was still seated in the driver's seat of his pickup truck, the shattered glass glinting like shiny pieces of silver against the blood that was pouring out of the gaping holes in his chest.

As his brothers looked on, Opie stood by the open driver's side as he stroked his father's graying hair with his hand, while his best friend and President occupied the front seat.

"For Donna." The older man managed to gasp out, blood trickling from his lips. "And for me."

"How the fuck could this possibly be for you old man?" Jax asked angrily, his tears leaving a trail down his face.

"I didn't exactly plan for this to happen, shithead, but now that it has, I'm okay with it. I'm an outlaw, boys. I'm not supposed to die in my bed like some old pussy." Piney tried to laugh, but the effort only sucked more blood into his already-diseased lungs, leaving him wheezing and out of breath.

"What about me, Pop? What about your grandchildren? Are they supposed to be okay with it? They just lost their mother!" Opie raged.

"They would have lost me soon anyway, son. Doctor gave me only about a year. Maybe. Better this old biker go out on his own terms than on some doctor's timetable." Piney reached a feeble hand up to grasp his son's head. Pulling Opie towards him, he managed to kiss him on his forehead. "Jax?"

"Yeah, Piney?"

"You watch out for him."

"You know I will." Jax promised.

"Where's Clay?"

"I'm here, old man." Clay reached in to put a hand on Piney's shoulder.

"Give my drinking buddy Jo a kiss for me." Piney's voice wavered.

"I will."

"Good." As the wailing of the ambulance siren was heard in the distance, the old man grinned. "Dumb asses. Always too fuckin' late." Smiling, Piney closed his eyes and was gone.

* * *

Marcus Alvarez was the founding member of the Mayan Motorcycle Club, Los Asesinos de Dios. His Club, which controlled parts of California and all of Northern Nevada, boasted a membership of hundreds, comprised mainly of men of Hispanic and Mexican descent.

That, in itself, was quite an achievement for someone like Marcus, who had never expected to reach the ripe old age of 51. Most men who had grown up like him, brown and poor, never made it out of the ghettos of Oakland. Most ended up dead or in prison, like his own father, who had died in prison at 39, after being shivved by a rival gang member while waiting on the chow line in Pelican Bay State Prison.

Marcus was 17 years old at the time his father died, having only vague memories of the man who had spent the majority of his adult life incarcerated. By the time his old man was no more, Marcus himself had been in and out of several juvenile delinquent facilities after his first arrest at 13 for chain-snatching. Just one more of the many fatherless boys roaming the streets, Marcus strove to be the toughest and baddest on the block. After all, he was now the man of the house, responsible for his mother and two younger sisters.

Marcus first developed a love for motorcycles at 19 when he stole a 1972 Harley-Davidson FL 1200 Electra Glide from the home of a weekend warrior in a ritzy Oakland suburb. Intending to sell the bike for cash, he took it to a chop shop instead where he had it modified and the serial numbers removed. He still had that bike and kept it in running condition.

It was his love for the freedom of the road that led him to found the Mayan Motorcycle Club, its mother charter based in Oakland. Marcus quickly used his connections on the street to start dealing first weed, eventually moving on to trafficking heroin, which quickly became the main source of the Club's earnings. With the creation of several charters in Nevada, he expanded his organization to include prostitution and an outlaw empire was born.

His drug enterprise, however, brought him in direct competition with the One-Niners, a gang whose territory spanned South of 19th Street in Oakland and was headed by Laroy Wayne. Seeing the potential to make a mountain of money, the success of the Mayans inspired the Niners to add the H trade to their low-level drug dealing and car boosting enterprise. With Laroy's brother Antoine running several brothels out of Nevada, the Mayans and the One-Niners spent as much time at war with each other in an effort to hold onto their territories as they did running their businesses.

Outnumbering the Mayans in manpower, the One-Niners also enjoyed a slight edge due to their business agreement with the Sons of Anarchy. With the Sons selling their merch only to Laroy and his crew, the Mayans had at times been involved in bloody feuds with the rival MC, with their uneasy co-existence made that much harder by the Sons refusal to pay Alvarez a vig for the privilege of doing business in Northern Nevada, which the Mayans considered their exclusive territory.

With a few isolated incidents, however, peace has reigned between both MC's since 1994. Bloody '92, the two-year period in their shared history had nearly decimated both Clubs, with many original Mayan members falling victim to the Sons superior firepower. Fearing that a continued war would bankrupt both Clubs in terms of money and members, the Sons and the Mayans came to a truce and have managed to go about their respective businesses peacefully for years. Now, in light of the events of what was being called "Bloody Saturday," that peace was in danger, with the possibility of another all-out war if Marcus chose to back the Lodi-based Calaveras in their beef with the Sons.

Marcus wasn't a fool. He had seen too much bloodshed and had lost too many brothers in his years at the head of the Mayan table. When the Sons reached out and called for a moratorium in order to set a meet between the two Clubs, he agreed.

Rafi Rivera, Marcus' right hand man for going on 15 years, however, was undecided as to how the Mayans should handle the matter. Rafi personally didn't trust SAMCRO, but he still considered them the lesser of two evils when compared to the CL. It was no secret that Rafi did not like the CL President Hector Salazar. It was obvious to anyone who came into contact with the brash young leader that he was a legend in his own mind. Still, Marcus had managed to convince him that the Calaveras was the crew to back as a means of expanding their drug business into Lodi.

The two men, along with the crew of eight patches specially selected for the meet scattered about, sat on a bench in the middle of a park in Modesto, which had been chosen as the neutral site for the meet.

"Are you sure about this, _ese?_ " Rafi asked.

"It's the best play for us." Marcus stroked his soul patch with an index finger. "This is some fucked up bullshit, Rafi and it's not of our doing. I cannot let this blow back on the Mayans because it will hurt our business. The heat that this shit brings—the shedding of innocent blood—is bad. Bad for our truce with the Sons and bad for business." Stubbing out a cigarette, Marcus nodded at the procession of bikes that was pulling into the park. "They're here. Let's do this."

Parking their rides in a straight line, Jax pulled off his helmet as he eyed the group of men waiting at several benches, glad that it appeared that SAMCRO outnumbered the Mayans present.

Jax was taking no chances for this meet with Alvarez. The Sons had suffered enough losses in the last 72 hours, but they needed answers sooner rather than later. They needed the truth from Alvarez regarding the connection between the Mayans and Calaveras. If possible, Jax hoped to broker the best deal possible for peace _and_ retaliation.

Because there would be retaliation for his brother.

Jax looked over at his VP. How Opie had managed to pull himself together was amazing to him.

_I would have been so lost, I might have eaten my gun without Jolene in my life, without her in this world._

"You ready?" He asked quietly.

Opie's face was stone cold, showing no emotion. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

* * *

Marcus and Rafi stood up as Jax and Opie approached.

"We appreciate you reaching out to us, Jax. We know it's a hard time for SAMCRO right now and I would like to offer you our sincerest sympathy." Marcus said as he first shook Jax's hand, then Opie's, who refused to let go as he looked straight into the Mayan leader's eyes.

"Did you authorize the massacre that killed my old lady and which now has claimed my old man as well?"

Instead of yanking his hand out of the giant Son's grip, Marcus covered Opie's hand with his other one.

"The Mayans and the Sons have a long and bloody history, but if I'm going to start another war with SAMCRO, there would be no doubt about it." Marcus said. "Right now, the CL were nothing more than a pack a mules for the Mayans, used to transport our product. If I had a beef with your Club, I wouldn't farm it out and I certainly would not come charging into your town and assault unarmed women and children. That shit that went down, ain't got nothing to do with us."

"Hector's your boy, isn't he?" Jax asked.

"He was. The plan had been to patch over his Club and make him an officer. In return, he and his crew would traffic and distribute H, expanding my customer base in Lodi." Marcus explained.

"Then he as good as works for you." Opie growled.

"That was true, until the little shithead went off the reservation. He came to me, claiming that the Sons had disrespected him and his patch and that he wanted vengeance," Marcus pointed at Tig. "Against you for attacking his old lady and killing his cousin Pozo."

"That's not how that shit went down." Jax explained. "There was more to that story than he was telling you."

"Whether or not there is or isn't is not the point, _ese_." Marcus replied. "Hector wanted your SAA's head on a fuckin' platter, but in the end I told him a beef with SAMCRO was not gonna happen and that he had to let that shit go. Obviously, he couldn't and he didn't."

"And because he didn't, a shit storm went down in Charming and dozens of people were hurt. An innocent women, the wife of my VP, died trying to protect my children." Jax said angrily.

"I know." Marcus looked at Opie. "What you're going through, I can't imagine. You have every right to avenge your wife and your father, but not against the Mayans." He reached into his kutte and pulled out a set of keys and held them out for Opie.

"What the fuck are those?" Opie asked.

"Keys to a van parked on the corner of Mark and Broad Streets, a mile north of here. Inside, you will find the CL VP Edgar Mendoza. That's the piece of shit who ran down your old lady and killed the old man. He's yours to do what you want." Marcus offered.

Jax nodded his approval. "How did you find him?"

"I put the word out that I wanted him and Hector found ASAP. We tracked him down before he had the chance to go under with a cousin's family in Gilroy."

"And Salazar?" Opie ground out.

At this, Rafi answered. "The word's out. He's been stripped of his patch and so have all of the CL who participated in the attack. We had planned to turn Salazar over to you as well, but—"

"But what?"

"One of his lieutenants got word to him that we were looking for him and that Edgar had gone missing. He took his old lady and booked. His house is empty and he left his ride behind. We checked with his aunt, but she claims she hasn't heard from him since she buried Pozo. We're looking, but so far, nothing." Rafi replied.

Opie abruptly turned and stomped towards his bike.

 _Shit,_ Jax thought.

"Look," Marcus continued. "Salazar disobeyed a direct order, so he was a dead man walking even before you called for a meet. There's no coming back for him after the shit he pulled. We have no beef with the Sons and we don't want any more unnecessary bloodshed. We will provide you with whatever Intel we can get and if we can deliver Salazar to you, we will."

"I appreciate that, Marcus." Jax held out his hand, which Alvarez shook. "Who's the head of the CL now?" He asked.

"Roscoe Cabrera. He's young, smart, and tough. He will keep his Club in line under penalty of death, so you won't have to worry about retaliation from them for the old man's attack." Rafi replied.

"Good." With Tig following, Jax turned on his heel and headed back to his bike.


	5. Laid to Rest

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I _do_ , however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Jolene Teller cradled her youngest son in her arms as the limousine slowly made its way along Main Street. It was one of nearly ten such cars in the mile-long procession for the double funeral of Donna Winston and Piermont "Piney" Winston.

The occupants of the car were deathly quiet as the procession made up of representatives from all 28 charters, family members, and the two hearses carrying the remains slowly wound its way through town towards Charming Memorial Park where Donna and Piney would be laid to rest.

Jolene let out a sigh that turned into a shudder as she tried to hold back the threatening torrent of tears. Since what was being notoriously referred to now as "Bloody Saturday", Jolene had been on a downward spiral of emotions and was tired of crying. Genuinely physically exhausted, with only enough energy to get out of bed to tend to her children, Jolene struggled to get through the days leading up to the funeral of the woman—her best friend—who had given her life to protect her children, never far from her thoughts.

A born and bred tomboy raised on the lot among bikers, Jolene had only ever been comfortable hanging around with the boys—Tommy, Jax, and Opie. Although Donna wasn't the first of her female friends, that distinction belonged to Ronnie Armstrong, she had been her closest. More like sisters, the two had immediately bonded in middle school and forged a friendship built to last a lifetime. Never thinking that a lifetime would end for Donna at just 32, Jolene was now condemned to grow old without her BFF.

_We were supposed age gracefully together, commiserating over hot flashes, "bat-wings" and hard-headed "old" old men while trying to play matchmaker for our kids._

Still reeling from one tragedy, Jolene could only vaguely recall hearing about the second one to hit her SAMCRO family in less than 48 hours. The memory of Jax breaking the news to her had seemed almost like a dream. Even as her already grief-stricken mind was processing the words "Piney's dead", Jolene tried to rouse herself, only to realize that she was already awake a mere second before collapsing into a heap on the floor of her living room.

Thinking about the craggy but lovable face of her beloved drinking buddy, Jolene tried to smother a sob as a montage of memories flowed through her mind—a younger, but hard living biker laughing uproariously as her Uncle Bobby tried to explain to Jolene at the tender age of seven her father's need for "sleepover buddies"; Piney giving Jolene her first lesson on the art of drinking tequila; and only just recently, Piney and her father having dinner in her home, laughing and reminiscing about the early days of SAMCRO and enthralling Abel and Kenny with their Vietnam War stories.

Losing Donna so violently was hard enough, but losing Piney, a link in the chain of their SOA heritage, the same way was way beyond tragic. It was unfair. No one family—Opie, Kenny, and Ellie—should have to bear such paralyzing grief and Jolene felt on the verge of collapse once again under the weight of her empathy for the people she loved.

Feeling a slight pressure against her arm, Jolene looked down to see the top of her oldest son's blond head. From the small shudders emanating from his body, she knew Abel was crying. Wrapping her right arm around his shoulders, she did her best to rock and comfort him, not even realizing that her own face was once again wet with her own tears.

"Grandma, Mommy's crying again." Maddox said softly as she tugged on Gemma's dress to get her attention.

"I know, baby." Gemma's own voice was hoarse from holding back the tears she refused to let flow. "I know. She'll stop soon. I promise."

"But A-bee is crying, too." Maddy whispered. "He don't cry."

Seeing that her granddaughter was on the verge of tears herself, Gemma stroked the little girl's cheek tenderly. "It's not always bad to cry, especially when you miss someone."

"Even Daddy cries?" The little girl sounded awestruck.

"Even Daddy, sweetheart." Gemma replied softly as she finally let her own tears go.

* * *

The crowd numbering in the hundreds was comprised of members, hang-arounds, war veterans, blood family and townsfolk. With standing room only left, just a select few were sitting during the service at the grave site. Many of the mourners, most of them hardcore bikers, had managed to remain passive and stoic during the procession to the cemetery. However, seeing the two caskets sitting side-by-side, both gleaming in the bright sun of the early fall day, had broken some of them, who now freely allowed their tears to fall. The deaths of an innocent woman taken away from her family in her prime and the father who had fallen trying to avenge his son's wife because he had loved her like his own was truly tragic.

The grave site, decorated with an abundance of colorful flowers, was a heart-wrenching, yet stunning sight to behold. The caskets, both custom-made, stood side-by-side, both as unique and beautiful as its occupants. Donna's, made from gorgeous Mahogany with gold accents, displayed a small plaque in the center declaring "Donna Winston, Beloved Wife and Mother". Piney's was made from gleaming black oak with "SAMCRO" spelled out in bold, white letters.

A part of history was being laid to rest, and many of the patches were there to show respect to the man who was responsible, along with his friend John Teller, for creating the brotherhood they lived every day. Piney was the epitome of what it meant to be a Son and embodied the true outlaw lifestyle by living hard and going out the same way. Piney Winston was a true hero to the men who had come to pay their respects, many of them hoping that when their own end came, they could be as strong and tough as their fallen brother.

Sitting in the front row, Harry "Opie" Winston sat grim-faced with his mother on one side and his children, Donna's parents and her two brothers on the other. As the pastor of his in-laws' church spoke about love and forgiveness, Opie focused all of his thoughts on rage and retribution instead. It pissed him off to no end that, as they were preparing to bury two of the most important people in his life, all he could feel in his heart was hatred. Comforted, somewhat, by the fact that he had said his proper goodbyes to his old lady and Pop during the private viewing for the family, Opie concentrated on planning for vengeance.

Having had the satisfaction of meting out his own brand of outlaw justice on Edgar Mendoza, the man responsible for killing his wife and father, Opie quickly learned it wasn't enough. He would not rest until Hector Salazar was dead as well, but Opie was determined that the CL leader wouldn't die alone. The bastard who had set this horrific chain of events in motion would get his as well, Opie promised himself, or he would die trying.

Opie thought about the SAMCRO SAA standing just several rows behind him and his hands literally shook with barely contained rage.

 _I want him dead_.

* * *

It was over. At the conclusion of the pastor's final benediction, as the crowd started to disperse, Jolene felt herself riveted to her seat. With her infant son asleep as she cradled him in her arms, she stared at the green grass at her feet. It was over, the nightmare that had become a reality had reached its crescendo.

 _What now_? Jolene thought bitterly as she realized that the majority of those here today would go back to life as usual the moment they stepped foot out of the cemetery. How little did they know that life would never be the same again because Jolene knew exactly _what now_. Donna and Piney may finally be at rest, but vengeance and retribution were now on the horizon. No doubt shit was about to get real again and who's to say that this would be their last visit to Charming Memorial for a long time?

She startled slightly as she felt the weight of a warm and familiar caress on the back of her little black dress. Looking to her right, her heart swelled in her chest as she saw the sadness in her old man's beautiful blue eyes. Knowing that the hurt she was seeing was more a reflection of the helplessness he felt in helping her deal with her grief, Jolene reached out and caressed his bearded cheek lovingly.

"Stop looking so worried, baby." She almost whispered as Jax closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "I'm fine."

Kissing her palm softly, Jax rejoiced inwardly. Hearing her speak for the first time in days gave him a glimmer of hope that the worst was probably over for his old lady.

"Are you sure about that, darlin'?" He asked hopefully.

Jolene shook her head with a slight smile. "No, but I'm getting there."

"Come 'ere." Jax stood, gently pulling Jolene up with him. Facing each other, Jax bent towards the little bundle snuggled against her breast. Inhaling the fresh powdery scent of his young son, Jax pressed a soft kiss against his temple covered in soft, downy blond wisps of hair.

Facing his old lady once again, Jax cradled her face in both his hands. "I love you." He said and, without giving her a chance to respond, laid a hard kiss on her mouth. Pulling away and distracted by the sparkle in her luminous green eyes, it took Jax longer than normal to register the sudden outburst and commotion coming from where Opie stood with his kids.

"You killed her! It took you twelve long years, but you finally killed her! You should have just put a bullet in her head the day you married her!" Helen Lerner pushed past her husband to confront her son-in-law.

At 5'4, the woman was as petite as her daughter had been. Her graying blond hair was pulled back into a chignon, which in her grief and anger had become disheveled and unkempt. The plain black linen coatdress was wrinkled and she had a run in one of her pantyhose. Those left at the grave site watched in stunned horror as the woman in her 60s raged at Opie.

During the Winstons' twelve-year marriage, if there had been one constant blight on their happiness it had been Helen Lerner. Since the very beginning, in spite of how well-loved and happy Donna was as an old lady and mother, Helen had remained the dissident relative who continued to disparage her relationship with Opie and his outlaw Club. Refusing to see or acknowledge the obvious love and affection Opie had for her daughter, Helen continued with her persistent nagging and hurtful comments. In her mind, Donna still had a chance for a good life if she would only divorce her husband, enabling her to find a good law-abiding citizen to take care of her and her children while she was still young enough to attract someone. Refusing to join his wife on her campaign against Opie, Helen believed that Donna's father Bob and their two sons had somehow been hoodwinked into believing that if Donna was happy, then Opie Winston must be a good man.

Now that Helen had been proven right after all, she was not going to let her son-in-law escape his culpability in her daughter's death. As she continued making a spectacle of herself while yelling at a grim-faced Opie, who looked her in the eyes and took the abuse, Jolene could hear Kenny and Ellie's soft cries turn into sobs.

The weight of the last few days was almost too much to bear for Jolene. She could only imagine what her beloved Sasquatch and the two children she loved like her own were going through. If Jolene knew Opie like she thought she did, he was probably already blaming himself and Kenny and Ellie didn't deserve having their one remaining parent villainized after burying two-fifths of their family. Quickly handing her baby over to Jax, Jolene decided she couldn't take it anymore.

Pushing through the gawking crowd, Jolene got into the older woman's face. "How dare you? I know you're hurting, but you're not the only one. Look at what you're doing to your grandkids. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Me?! Ashamed of myself?! You are one to talk! You're worse than the rest of them!" Helen waved her hand around, indicating the remaining patches and their families. "You got away, but couldn't stay away, could you? You came back only to end up breeding with the known criminal that almost got you killed! How stupid are you?! I'll tell you how! You're just as stupid as Donna was and no doubt you will end up the same way!"

Jolene's breathing was erratic as her chest heaved up and down. "Out of respect for Donna, I'm going to pretend that's your grief talking, but if you don't shut your mouth right now, so help me, I will do it for you!" She growled, as the sobs of her niece and nephew grew louder.

Bob Lerner grabbed his wife by the shoulders and shook her until her wild eyes finally centered on him. "Helen, please. She's right. You're not thinking with a clear head right now. Let's go." Bob Lerner said sternly.

"Go?! The only reason I came was to finally get off my chest what I've been holding back for twelve years!" Helen screamed at him. "This _is_ all his fault, and yours too! He as good as killed her and _you_ helped him by accepting that piece of biker trash into our family!"

Before her husband could answer, Helen found herself being abruptly yanked around, only to feel the sharp sting of a slap across her cheek. With Jax anticipating all hell breaking loose, Gemma found a still-sleeping TJ suddenly in her arms as Jax made his way to his old lady, with several remaining brothers following suit and forming a protective circle around Jolene, Opie, and his kids.

Shocked into sudden silence, Helen's eyes landed on Jolene's who nearly towered over her in four inch heels. "Enough, damn it!"

The stunned pale-faced woman nodded her head, almost shaking with the effort.

Reaching into her shoulder bag, Jolene pulled out the bottle of valium prescribed by Dr. Negron, but which she refused to take because she was still nursing. "Dad, please hand me that bottle of water in TJ's bag."

With an arched eyebrow and a small nod of approval, Gemma watched as Jolene opened the bottle of pills, grabbed Helen's hand, and shook one out. "Have you taken anything today?"

As the woman shook her head and started to cry, Jolene took the bottle of water and nearly force fed it to the stricken woman until she finally swallowed the pill.

Looking at her husband and two sons, all of whom seemed relieved, Jolene addressed Bob. "You need to take her home, put her to bed. It's been too much for her today."

"I will, and thank you. She needed—" Bob shrugged and continued. "I just couldn't do it."

"I know."

Bob handed his wife over to their sons. "Take your mother to the car."

As the three headed away from the grave site, Bob walked over to Opie, who had pulled his children against his body to comfort them. Standing with Jax's arms wrapped around her protectively, Jolene couldn't make out what they were saying as everyone anxiously watched the exchange. Before parting, Opie offered his hand to his father-in-law to shake. Instead, however, the tall, stoop-shouldered older man grabbed it and pulled him into a tight embrace before bending over and hugging his grandchildren. Wiping their eyes tenderly before kissing them on their foreheads, Bob straightened up and slowly walked away.

"Well, it's good to see that Donna had at least one parent who wasn't a complete asshole." Gemma commented as she, Jax, and Jolene watched the man head off to join his family.

"Maybe, but the poor henpecked bastard wasn't much use in making Helen toe the line with Donna and Ope." Jax noted.

"And he certainly won't be able to do it now that she believes her feelings have finally been vindicated." Jolene reasoned. "Donna was the only one who could ever stand up to her mother. With her gone, who knows what trouble Helen is going to stir up."

* * *

Tapping away on his laptop, Juan Carlos "Juice" Ortiz sat alone in the corner of the Main Room allocated to hold all of the Club's surveillance equipment. He had been hard at work since the Club's meet with Alvarez, using whatever Intel he came across to try and locate the piece of shit that had sent SAMCRO into a tailspin. Using his savvy and knowledge to hack into police and other government databases to locate the now-former CL President Hector Salazar, Juice reminisced about the first time he had actually met Donna Winston.

New to NorCal after one too many scrapes with the Po-Po at the 112th Precinct back in Rego Park, New York, Juice had sought work as a mechanic at T-M for one reason and one reason only. The long line of gleaming black Harleys parked outside what he later learned was the Clubhouse for the Sons of Anarchy MC. Although before leaving New York, Juice had never owned a Harley, he had always dreamed of having one.

Juice had been raised by a hardworking single mom with her youngest brother, Junior Ortiz, being the only constant male role model in his life. Junior was trouble from the word jump, but Juice had grown up idolizing him. The first vehicle he had ever been on that wasn't a NYC Transit bus had been his uncle's Kawasaki. It wasn't a Harley, not by a long shot, but riding what he later learned was referred to as "bitch" on the back of that bike at 10 had opened Juice's world up.

After high school, the mostly self-taught computer genius went to work in the IT Department of an investment bank at 30 Rock. Still living at home with his mother, Juice was able to bank enough money to start over in Cali after getting arrested for a third time for the possession of marijuana and losing his job after failing a drug test.

Having learned to ride from Uncle Junior, Juice took a chance on himself. He brought a Harley with a large portion of his savings and headed out West alone. About halfway across country it finally dawned on him what a bone-headed move that really was, but in the end, he was glad he had taken that chance.

Taking what he learned during high school shop classes, where he and his classmates had spent a whole year learning how to rebuild an engine, Juice was able to bullshit his way into landing a job at T-M. Not thinking he would last a week, Juice was grateful when Jax Teller, a fellow mechanic and patched member of the MC, had taken him under his wing. He had been working at the garage and hanging out at the Clubhouse in his spare time for over a year when Jax offered to sponsor him.

Those twelve months as a prospect had been the hardest he's ever had to work in his life. And not all of it was physical labor, either. Juice had worked hard to get the respect of the full patches that seemed hell bent on making his life miserable, including his own sponsor. Most members treated him like a goofball idiot—his Mohawk no doubt not exactly helping him in that regard—but in spite of the hazing, Juice loved working on the lot and couldn't wait to be a part of the brotherhood.

He had seen Donna Lerner hanging around the Clubhouse a lot, first as Jolene's friend and then as Opie's girl. Juice had even sat in her station at Nicky's Diner a couple of times. She had always been nice to him, but she pretty much kept to herself, the only man she ever had eyes for being the 6'4 red-headed patch Jolene had tried convincing him was an actual Sasquatch found wandering in Redwood Forest. According to Jo, the Club had discovered him on a run and decided to shave him down, put him in leathers and on a bike for shits and giggles, keeping him as the unofficial Club mascot. She almost had Juice convinced too, until Ope had chased Jolene down and sat on her until she cried "uncle!"

Juice ran a hand over one side of his head covered with a tattoo and no hair and smiled, remembering the day he met Donna for the first time. Tig and Jax had tasked him to clean out the dorms, ordering him to start with Opie's first. Juice learned three things that day. One, never trust a pair of laughing, conspiratorial drunk patches, even if one is your sponsor. Two, along with a pretty nice ass, Donna had quite a set of lungs. And three, one punch from Opie was like getting hit in the face with the trunk of a Redwood and could knock you the fuck out.

Juice learned all this rather quickly by walking into Opie's dorm unannounced at Tig's and Jax's insistence that he clean the room. Unfortunately for Juice, the room was still occupied and the bed was being put through a major stress test. It was funny now, but at the time, Donna squealing like a railroad whistle had scared the shit out of him as one of Ope's size sixteens clocked him in the face as he stood and stared in shock. Juice rubbed his jaw as he remembered how it had ached later on after Opie's fist had connected with it. Needless to say, Juice remembered how to knock before entering a room from that day forward.

He didn't know how Opie was going to handle losing his old lady and old man the way that he had. There was a lot of tension between Opie and Tig. The situation had not blown up yet, but it was only a matter of time before there was an extreme confrontation, Juice could see it in Ope's eyes. He only hoped that the Club would be able to survive the double tragedy and come out somewhat whole in the end.

Movement on the right side of the four surveillance screens on the flat screen TV on the wall disrupting his walk down memory lane, Juice closed down his laptop.

He needed to let his brothers know that they were about to have a visitor of the official kind.

* * *

Chief Wayne Unser walked into the Main Room of the Clubhouse. The 60-plus year old man was looking drawn and tired. It wasn't surprising considering that he had been in constant go-mode ever since the attack at the Taste of Charming festival just over a week ago. His stress levels were in no danger of being alleviated anytime soon either, especially since now he needed to meet with SAMCRO in his official capacity as an officer of the law.

_I almost wish that Captain America was here to do this._

Unser still found it hard to believe that David Hale had left Charming behind. Not being able to convince his long-distance girlfriend to relocate, Hale had decided to move to Seattle to be closer to Ronnie Armstrong, a former resident of Charming and good friend of Jolene Teller. After a couple of years, Hale had finally convinced the free-spirited young woman to settle down and now the two were quite happily married. Last he heard, Hale had joined the Redmond Sheriff's Department with Ronnie now a stay-at-home mom after the birth of their daughter over a year ago.

Hale's defection to the North had put the running of Charming PD back into Chief Unser's hands. Without his do-gooder interference, the Sons of Anarchy had been able to operate business as usual in Charming once again. Now, however, after the events of Bloody Saturday, Unser was quick to pick up on the changes that were being fast-tracked to take place in their small hometown and he knew that he needed to prepare the Club for it.

Walking towards the bar, Unser nodded at the man sitting in Piney's old seat. "I still can't believe he's gone."

"Neither can I." Clay said as he reached out to slap a still meaty hand onto the Chief's frail shoulders. "We've been expecting you to stop by. Do you have any news for us?"

"Yeah, I do. Is Opie around?"

"I'm here."

Unser turned around to face the Club's VP. By his side as always, going as far back as Unser could remember, was his best friend and President, Jax Teller. The rest of the patches followed in their wake, trickling in from various places on the lot and in the Clubhouse.

"Maybe we ought to sit down, talk together." The Chief suggested.

"Good idea." Jax spoke up. "Everyone, Chapel."

It was the first time to Unser's recollection that he had been asked to sit around the table. He wished it could have been under better circumstances. The fact was, more often than not, he felt more at home here among the Morrows and the Tellers and the rest of SAMCRO than he did among the squad under his command. Friendship definitely made strange bedfellows.

Directing his comments at Opie, Unser spoke. "I wanted to let you know what's been going on. So far, the Sanwa Sheriffs haven't made any progress on finding Salazar, or his VP Edgar Mendoza. They did a sweep of their Clubhouse and any known addresses, have spoken to neighbors and family, but nobody's giving them up."

Opie nodded, but didn't comment.

 _They'll never find their bastard VP again_ , Opie thought grimly. _At least not in one piece, they won't_.

"And they never will." Happy contributed in a gravelly voice. "Nobody wants to talk to pigs."

Unser raised an eyebrow. "I guess it's a good thing that I'm not the easily offended type." The Chief took a sip of the Jack that one of the Prospects had handed to him. "As for the six we have in custody, of the three in the hospital, one of them is no longer among the living."

Shouts of pleasure and grim nods passed like a wave around the table. "What happened?" Jax asked.

"Succumbed to his injuries inflicted by Mr. Pig Hater over there." Unser nudged his head towards Happy.

"Alright, Hap! Good job, brutha! That's another smiley face for ya." Chibs laughed boisterously.

"I'll pretend I don't know what that means." The Chief said under his breath.

"That can't be good." Half Sack said worriedly. "What's gonna happen? Is Hap gonna be charged?"

Unser shook his head. "Fortunately, there were witnesses to spare who corroborated the facts of Happy's story. It also helps that Happy was there at the right time and protected those little girls at the shooting booth and saved their lives." Speaking directly to Happy, Unser continued. "You were in possession of an illegal firearm, which was confiscated after the incident. Ordinarily, with your record you would get 3-6 months in County, but it seems your lawyer is about to close a deal for no jail time with the full support of Charming PD and a very vocal group of extremely grateful parents."

"Good shit! Score one for the good guys!" Clay bellowed as he led his brothers in a round of applause for Happy.

"What about the surviving pieces of shit? What happens to them now?" Opie asked coldly.

"The two still at St. Thomas are under guard 24/7, but have been deemed ready to be discharged into County custody in the next day or so. With no bail set, County lockup is probably where they'll all sit for the next six months until trial."

Seeing Jax's slight nod at Tig and Chibs, Unser had a sneaking suspicion that it was unlikely that the five CL would make it to trial.

_Fortunately, that's out of my jurisdiction._

Unser cleared his throat. "There are some more serious problems that the Club needs to be aware of, although I'm not sure what can be done about it."

"What's that?" Jax asked, his eyes narrowed.

The older man sighed as he ran his hand over his rapidly thinning hair. "It's the town, the majority of which are upset. No, strike that—they're pissed. Nothing like this has ever happened before inside Charming."

"And nothing like this will ever happen again." Jax said. He didn't like where this was going.

"Really? Can you guarantee that 'cause, at this point, I don't think anyone in this town will buy it. Actually, and I'm sorry to say, I'm having a hard time with it myself." Unser declared. "Listen, I know for a fact that there are still some people in Charming who appreciate what the Sons have done for it over the years, but a lot of people got hurt, including children. I really don't see anyone who's willing to stand up and bring some kind of action against the Club, mainly 'cause they're afraid of pissing SAMCRO off, but there are those who have no love for the Club and are making a lot of noise behind the scenes."

"Who? And what kind of noise?" Clay asked.

"Jacob Hale for one."

"And he's enough all by himself." Juice said. "Arrogant prick."

"You're right on both counts. He's well-connected and has been gathering support starting with the top of the Charming food chain—City Council, the Chamber of Commerce, our beloved Mayor." Unser explained. "Now he wants a town meeting to discuss Charming's criminal element, give the people a voice, he says. He's pushing for more policing here in Charming and he's using the death of Opie's wife as a spearhead to affect some sort of change."

"Jacob Hale doesn't give a shit about my old lady." Opie growled.

"And I'm sure you're right, son, but Jacob Hale, Jr. knows how to sell real estate and he certainly knows how to sell bullshit and right now he's doing a pretty good job of doing both. He's trying to put the blame for this gang violence on the Club and a number of people are listening to what he has to say. I need some sort of ammunition to fight him with." Unser suggested.

"Like what?" Jax asked.

"Like why the CL were here in the first place. Could it be a case of mistaken identity? Coincidence? Wrong place, wrong time? Anything that could explain this shit away. I mean, we've had this agreement that you don't shit where you live and for the past 30 years, the Sons have held up their end of the bargain, created jobs with legitimate businesses and have kept drugs and violent crime out of Charming." Unser reasoned. "If I could go back and tell them that this wasn't something instigated by the Club, that SAMCRO is as much a victim of this senseless act as everyone else that day, it might help soften some people, especially if we can link this attack to some kind of gang initiation-type of violence at the hands of outsiders."

"Well, we can't do that, can we?" Opie remarked rather loudly. "We can't do that, Chief because we _are_ the reason that wetback scum came into our town and killed my wife, isn't that right?" His eyes bored a hole into the man sitting across from him.

Jax placed a hand on Opie's trembling arm. "Bro, don't do this. Not now."

Opie's eyes connected with his brother's and Jax saw all of the sadness, all of the anger and rage pouring out of them. "Not now? Then when, Jax? When do I deal with the fact that the man who caused the death of my wife is sitting across from me at this table? That _my brother_ killed my wife as surely as he fired a bullet from his fuckin' gun?"

 _Here we go,_ Juice thought grimly. _Shit's about to jump off_ _._

Chibs, who was sitting on the other side of the table, tried to keep the situation from igniting. "Brutha, we know you're hurting—"

"You know? You know?!" Opie's voice got louder and louder. "What the fuck do any of you know?! You don't know shit! You're not the ones coming home to an empty house and an empty bed, to two children who are without a mother and a grandfather because THAT son of a bitch couldn't keep his dick in his pants!"

The circumstances of Opie life finally started caving in on him and all he could see was the stone-faced man sitting across the table that had taken everything away from him. In his pain and anger, he couldn't see the utter misery reflected in Tig's own eyes.

So, with no other way to channel it, Opie's rage simply exploded.

Pained by his brother's emotional collapse, Jax wasn't prepared when his best friend practically since birth literally reached across the table. Grabbing Tig by his kutte with his left hand, Opie repeatedly slammed his right hand into the SAA's face. Almost like a time bomb had gone off, the room erupted as chairs were literally flung to the side as Jax and his brothers, with a scared stiff Chief of Charming PD up against the wall, tried almost in vain to pull Opie off of their brother, a man who refused to fight back.

"Ope! Ope! Let go, man! Stop!" Jax yelled as he tried to restrain his friend.

It was Happy and Chibs that finally managed to wrestle Opie off of Tig, who was slumped on the floor. Opie was gone, a wild man throwing bloody punches and connecting with anything and anyone in front of him. Grabbing Opie by wrapping powerful arms around his chest, Happy pushed Opie and slammed his head hard against the wall, stunning him.

"Your brother saved your daughter's life, damn it! You need to focus on that!" Happy roared.

Breaking loose of the vise-like hold Happy had on him, Opie shoved the Tacoma Killer, slamming him hard enough that Happy ended up sprawled on the Redwood table. "And then he killed her mother! Don't expect me to thank him for it!" Opie raged.

Pushing his way first through Chibs, then Bobby, Juice, and finally Jax, the big man stormed out of the Chapel, leaving his brothers in as much turmoil as he has been living with since his world came to an end.


	6. Walkabout

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Jolene grabbed a basket from one of the cubbyholes custom-built into the wall opposite the sliding glass doors in the family room. Padding around barefoot in the bright and sunny room, Jolene started picking up toys and tossing them into the basket, clearing the floor of Maddy's mess. No matter how hard she tried, Jolene still couldn't get her stubborn 3-year old to clean up after herself. Even though it pissed her off to the extreme, Jolene almost smiled.

 _Like father, like daughter_.

While Abel most definitely got his neat freak tendencies from her, after living together for 3 years and being married now for almost 4, it was apparent that those tendencies had not rubbed off on Jax. God only knew what went through her old man's mind sometimes, but it was clear that Jax still had no clue how to use a hamper. Instead of lifting the lid in order to put dirty clothes _inside_ , he was still piling his funky drawers _on top_ of the hamper. Deciding to look at the glass as half full, Jolene really couldn't complain because at least his dirty clothes were now at least in the vicinity of the hamper and not scattered around the house like in the past.

Maddy's room, on the other hand, was starting to resemble her father's old dorm at the Clubhouse. With TJ down for a nap, Jolene was tempted to yank her daughter away from playing in the backyard with Abel, Kenny, and Ellie for another lesson on cleaning up after oneself. But the truth was, she needed to keep herself busy. It kept her from hovering by the door of Jax's man cave, through which he and Opie had disappeared about two hours ago.

Since Donna and Piney's burial, the Winston kids had been staying with her and Jax. Jolene loved those kids with all her heart, but it had been almost a week since Kenny and Ellie had seen their father. Looking gaunt and disheveled, Opie had shown up at the Teller doorstep just before lunchtime. Jolene could smell his whiskey-soaked breath even before he opened his mouth, surprising Jolene by brusquely asking to see Jax, instead of seeking out his children.

Jolene and Jax, even Gemma, Clay and Neeta, had been doing their best to comfort the grieving children. They had an abundance of love and support while in the Teller home and Jolene tried to keep their routine as normal as possible, but they needed their father. Opie had always been such a big part of their lives since the day they were born. He had always been a very hands-on father and Jolene could sense that some of Kenny and Ellie's grief came from feeling abandoned by their father since their mother and grandfather had been put into the ground.

"They still down there, honey?"

Jolene turned to meet Neeta's solemn gaze. The older woman was standing in the hallway leading off to the kitchen, holding a dish towel in her hands. Somehow, Jolene had unknowingly made her way back to Jax's door, holding the toy basket under her arm, propped against her cocked hip.

She nodded as she put the basket down by her feet. "I just have a bad feeling about this, Neeta. If I can feel Ope pulling away from his family, how do you imagine those kids must feel? They've already lost their mother and grandfather. They can't lose—" Jolene bit her lip in an effort to hold back her tears, and failed.

Neeta wrapped her arms around the suddenly weepy woman. "No, no, baby girl. I've known Opie Winston as long as I've known you and Jax. Ya'll are cut from the same cloth. He has suffered a great loss, but he will bounce back, like ya'll always do." Neeta assured her as she gently pushed Jolene away. "These tears, Jo—you really have to let go of all that guilt. I can feel it radiating off you."

Jolene was rapidly blinking her eyes as Neeta wiped away her tears with the dish towel. "But it should have been me, Neeta." Jolene whispered.

"Oh my sweet Jesus, girl! Don't you go around saying that nonsense. Don't you even think it, you hear? It wouldn't just devastate your old man to hear that shit, but your precious babies, too." Neeta chastised. "What happened, happened. It was chance, not fate. Donna was a wonderful person and what happened wasn't fair, but she made the choice to protect Maddy and TJ. Would you have done any different had it been Kenny and Ellie who had been in harm's way?"

Jolene was shaking her head vehemently. "No, I wouldn't. I love those children like they are my own."

"Then all you can do is accept what has happened and do your best to do right by Donna's children. Comfort Opie and help him through this bad time in his life. It won't be easy, but you are a strong old lady and I know you can do it. It's what Donna would want you to do."

Jolene wrapped her arm around her friend. "What would I do without you?"

"You would have figured it all out, baby girl, but I'll always be around when you need me. Now come on, let's go get some food packed up and ready to go for Opie to take for him and the kids."

* * *

It had been too early in the day to start drinking and Jax knew he'd be in deep shit with his old lady if she found out, especially since Opie looked and smelled like he had been on a non-stop bender since the after-Church party last night. But after the two men had shared superficial pleasantries, there had been nothing left to do while Jax waited Opie out. So until his friend was ready to discuss the real reason he had stopped by, Jax broke out a bottle of JD and two glasses and they spent the better part of the next two hours downing shots and reminiscing. The Jack finally did its job by loosening Opie's tongue.

After a long pause, the next words to come out of his mouth were stark, spoken without emotion or rancor. Even as the statement filled the room and hung over both brothers like a dark cloud, Jax couldn't say that it had been unexpected.

"I want to go Nomad."

Leaning back on one of the comfortable leather armchairs in his man cave, Jax contemplated his friend, who was sitting across from him. He was barely recognizable from the man that Jax had known practically since birth.

Opie Winston and Jax Teller were probably the closest of all the brothers in the mother charter. They had grown up together, raised hell together and had become men together. They had gone through many trials and tribulations together. From the death of Jax's younger brother, to their brief separation when Mary had decided that she'd had enough of Piney's bullshit and moved to Galt with her son—only to have him runaway and return to his father. To coping with the death of Jax's father, incarceration, and through Jax's tumultuous relationship with his old lady, they had always managed to be there for each other.

But Opie had never suffered a loss quite like this. Over the years, there had been plenty of deaths in the SAMCRO family, but Ope had never dealt with a loss on such a personal level. Losing the love of his life and the mother of his children had been devastating enough, but to have it quickly followed by the death of the man Opie swore as a kid could walk on water had crippled him. Jax could see it in his friend's eyes, once so expressive and soulful were now just dead pools, a reflection of the empty void that his life had become seemingly overnight. The past couple of weeks seemed like a cruel, heartless joke. A nightmare everyone wished they could wake up from, and for the first time in their long friendship, Jax wasn't sure if he could help Opie.

But he had to try.

"Ope—" He started, but his friend was already shaking his head.

"It's for the best, Jax. I just can't stay here." Opie reasoned quietly. "Stay in _that_ house. I can't even bring myself to ride down the street where she died."

Jax tried again. "You need your family, Ope."

"I don't have a family anymore." He replied in an emotionless tone, his eyes downcast.

"Yes, you do, bro. You have kids who love you and need you now more than ever." Opie had always been a dedicated and loving father and it alarmed Jax to see his brother so overwhelmed by his grief.

The thought that someone as strong and forthright as Opie could be brought to his knees scared the shit out of Jax. As a father himself, Jax couldn't bring himself to contemplate his old lady checking out before him. He had already visited that scary place before, so many years ago when Jolene had been shot by Whistler, and he knew he couldn't go back there again. He knew the impact that kind of loss would have on him and his family and Jax couldn't rebuke his brother for feeling that way himself.

"I can't be there for them. Not now. Not in the way they need me to be." Opie shook his head, tears he was unafraid to cry in front of his brother running down his cheeks. "How can I look them in the eyes, knowing that I'm responsible for their mother's death?"

"You are not responsible!" Jax said angrily. He was exhausted from walking on eggshells around all of this misplaced guilt. First with his old lady, then Tig, and now Opie. "The fuckin' Calaveras are responsible. No one else."

"Really?" Opie sneered. "Not even my so-called _brother_?"

"Yes, not even your brother, who no more wanted this to happen than you did." Jax exclaimed.

"But it happened any fuckin' way!"

"Yeah, it did." Jax nodded solemnly. "Bro, I can't even imagine what you're going through right now, but I have some idea. For four years the woman I loved was out of my life and I didn't know if I would ever see her again. That not knowing, it drove me to do some serious damage, to myself and to my family. I ran away every chance I got and tried to dull the pain with all the wrong things. All I accomplished was getting tied down to some crank whore who caused us all a shit load of problems in the end. I love ya, Ope and I don't want to see any more bad shit happen to you."

Opie remembered the pain his friend had lived in for years. At times, he truly believed that Jax wasn't going to make it out alive. However, there had been one major difference.

"But you got Jo back. I, on the other hand, will _never_ get to hold Donna in my arms again. We'll never make love again. Never argue. Never laugh. And my children will grow up motherless." Opie said bitterly.

"And that's why you need to stay here, in Charming. Going Nomad won't change any of that. Whatever problems you have in dealing with this, Ope, won't go away. Those problems and, who knows, probably a whole new set will be waiting for you when you get back." Jax explained. Shaking his head, Jax—who thought he'd never be able to do it to his friend—pulled rank. "I _won't_ let you do it."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Opie growled.

"It means you need a unanimous vote for a transfer and, even if you manage to convince the others at the table to vote your way, you're not gonna get one." Jax leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, as he looked a seething Opie in the eye. "You need to get out for a while? Fuck, I can understand that shit. Get out, hit the open road. Go walkabout. Take some time to clear the noise in your head, but then you come back home to your family, Ope. To your brotherhood."

"And what if I can't?" The words were barely audible and Jax had never seen his brother look so lost.

"Meaning?" Jax asked, his jaw clenched tight.

"What if I don't want to come back? Back to SAMCRO?"

For a moment, the weight of the words being spoken truly stunned Jax into silence. He swallowed and finally replied, "Then we'll deal with it if and when we have to."

* * *

Jax quirked an eyebrow as he turned down the hall towards the kitchen. The sound of his old lady's genuine laughter had been sorely missed around the Teller home in recent weeks, but it was finally back and, apparently, with a vengeance.

Jax smiled as he leaned against the doorjamb to watch his old lady kidding around with Neeta as Jolene packed some freshly baked cookies into airtight containers. Neeta Benson probably had no idea what a gift she actually was to his family, so Jax made a mental note to let her know, and soon.

First, he was gonna get as much of an eyeful as he could of Jolene in a pair of tight, black hot pants that he was sure were too indecently short to be worn outside the house. Shit, he could see the curve of her perfectly round ass cheeks winking at him and she wasn't even bending down. Debating in his mind whether or not she had gone commando, Jax was in serious danger of having his own pants grow increasingly tighter around the crotch area when Neeta, noticing him out of the corner of her eye, gently nudged Jolene with her elbow.

Turning to him, her eyes sparkling, Jolene smiled. "Hey, baby." She held her arms out and open for him.

Quickly crossing the room, Jax wrapped his arms around his wife and lifted her up until her legs instinctively gripped him around the waist.

"Excuse us, Neeta." Jax cheekily threw her a wink.

"Hey, no problem." Neeta grabbed one of the cookie containers and headed to the French doors leading to the backyard. "The minute baby girl wrapped those legs around ya, I knew that was my cue to get myself gone."

 _Can't say I blame her, neither. If I thought he could carry my weight, I might be tempted to jump on him myself_ , Neeta laughed out loud.

Jax raised an eyebrow at Neeta's loud bawdy cackle causing Jolene to giggle. "Don't ask." Knowing Neeta like she did, Jolene knew exactly what the older woman was cackling about.

Jax was looking at her with a hint of a smile on his lips, Jolene noticed. Not giving her a chance to speak and, in order to avoid the inevitable, Jax let his soft, warm lips cover her mouth, before he gently sucked on her bottom lip, opening her up to a deeper, hotter kiss. With her tiny fists balled up in his hair and his slightly calloused hands stroking the soft skin of her back underneath her tank, Jax reveled in having his passionate and hot old lady back in his arms. Everyone mourns differently and Jolene had needed her time to grieve, but shit, he had missed her.

Knowing that what he had to tell her would probably throw her into a funk again, Jax was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. Placing her on the counter, Jolene let out a soft moan as Jax dropped his mouth to work on her neck as his hands traveled north up the front of her shirt.

"Baby," Jolene laughed, her voice husky with passion. "Are you forgetting we have guests? The kids and Neeta are right outside and—where's Ope? Please tell me you sent his stank ass up upstairs to take a shower." She was holding his face lovingly in her hands and Jax had to close his eyes in frustration, realizing that he'd probably had his old lady back for just a fleeting moment.

Gently placing her back on her bare feet, Jax took his time righting her slightly askew clothing in a bid to postpone telling her what she needed to know.

Finally, he shook his head. "Nah, darlin'. Ope left."

By the look on her face, Jax knew she was hoping she had heard him wrong. "I'm sorry, baby. What did you say?"

"He's gone, Jo. He only dropped by to talk about going Nomad." Jax replied.

"What?!" Jolene gasped, her eyes wide and her breathing quickening.

"Don't worry, babe." Jax wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her against his body. "I talked him out of it."

He felt his old lady's shoulders slump beneath the weight of his arm. "Oh shit, that's a relief."

"Not really." Jax nearly whispered against her temple. "He's still leaving. He's gonna hit the road for a while, clear his head."

Jolene pulled away from Jax and looked up at him with shock and something more—anger, maybe?—reflected in her huge green eyes. "When?"

"Today. Right now, actually. Said he was leaving as soon as he was done talking to me." Jax replied, already hating himself for letting his brother walk out on his family.

Jolene was ready to spit she was so heated and angry. "And you just let him go?" She stormed.

"What was I supposed to do, Jo? He's a grown man." Jax reasoned, unconvinced himself.

"You're his President. He's your VP. He's the _only_ parent those kids have left!"

"Babe, he's hurting." Jax said remorsefully.

"We're all fucking hurting!" Jolene almost yelled and quickly got herself under control. Last thing she wanted right now was everyone coming in from the backyard to check on what's going on. "I know he's hurting, Jax, but so are his kids."

"I know and I tried talking him through it, but he totally shut down on me, Jo. He blames himself and doesn't think his kids deserve a father like him and there was no convincing him otherwise." Jax explained.

Jolene ran her hands through her loose curls. "But he didn't even stay long enough to talk to his kids." She lamented, her mother's heart breaking for those two innocent children. Looking Jax in the eyes, the hurt Jolene was feeling was quickly replaced by righteous anger. "I suppose it's up to me to break the news to Kenny and Ellie?"

Jax nodded as Jolene chuckled cynically. "I'll be right there with you, Jo. He just thought it would be better coming from you instead of Mary."

Jolene was incredulous. "Are you shitting me? _No one_ should have to have that conversation with them. He should have stayed and sought comfort from his kids, his family."

"I understand where you're coming from, but maybe taking time off to clear his head is the right call for Ope. It's a helluva lot better than going Nomad." Jax reasoned and quickly continued as he saw Jolene's temper about to flare. "Babe, taking to the road was just about the only way I kept myself going after you left Charming."

"But you always came back, Jax. Who's to say that he will?" Jolene asked.

"No one can say, not even Ope." Jax replied and her eyes widened. "He doesn't know if he wants to come back to SAMCRO." Jolene was speechless and Jax took the opportunity to step forward and pull her into his arms. "Listen, all Ope knows is SAMCRO. He'll be back. I know he will, but right now he's in the type of head space that can send him screaming into the night. He needs to get a handle on his shit, but I don't think he believes he can do it here."

"And what about Ellie and Kenny? How do they cope?" Jolene questioned, at a loss herself at the thought of losing Opie on top of losing Donna and Piney. "What are we supposed to do while he's on the road?"

"Ope made arrangements with Mary. He asked her to come down from Galt for a few weeks while he gets his shit straight and she'll be back in town tomorrow." Jax assured her. "I know Ope, darlin'. He'll be back in a few weeks, a month at the most."

Jolene looked up at Jax, wanting to believe in what he was saying. She could tell by the look in his soulful eyes that he wanted to believe it too. Truth was, the decision had already been made and even if it hadn't, it wasn't hers or Jax's or anyone else's to make. With Neeta's words from earlier ringing in her head, Jolene hoped that Opie found the peace he was so desperately seeking on the road, but she had work to do and right now that meant making sure she did right by Donna's kids.

* * *

Hector Salazar closed the back door and headed down to the basement of the house that he and Luisa were using as a hideout. Hector always waited until dark to make a food run into a nearby town to avoid being seen. Keeping them fed was a time-consuming process. Not only did he have to double-back several times in case he was being followed, but he had to make sure he stashed the car he had borrowed from Luisa's cousin a good distance away from their hideout before returning to the house with the food.

The dilapidated house they were hiding out in wasn't in the best of neighborhoods, which was a definite plus as far as Hector was concerned. The local pigs that barely patrolled the streets around here during daylight hours certainly weren't stupid enough to come into this area at night. The basement was fully furnished and had several small windows, which Luisa had blacked out to prevent any light or movement to be seen from the outside. It wasn't no fancy crib, but it was a good enough place for them to hole up in while he figured out his next move.

After barely managing to escape being ambushed by the Sons at the CL's industrial park in Lodi, Hector had managed to hook up with Luisa. For a couple of weeks they had jumped from town to town in order to stay a step ahead of SAMCRO, but had quickly run out of Luisa's relatives willing to give them shelter. Luisa had been getting tired of moving around so much anyway and, quite frankly, even though he was too, he was more tired of hearing her bitch about it.

Fortunately, Hector had finally come up with a possible plan to get them out of California and had secured this house in order to execute that plan. Now, all they needed to do was figure out how to get their plan in motion before whatever money Hector had managed to secure before dropping off the grid ran out.

"Papi, you forgot the M&M's again." Luisa whined as she went through the shopping bags.

Hector rolled his eyes. "Look, just be glad you got something to eat, all right? I have too much shit to deal with right now and your fuckin' candy sure ain't one of them." He growled.

 _It's all her fuckin' fault anyways_ , Hector angrily eyed his woman's back as she continued to paw through the bags.

Hector rued the day he had come into that stupid bar where everything he had worked so hard for had gone to shit. As much as he wanted to believe in Luisa's loyalty to him as his old lady, there had been just one too many instances where she had played the innocent. It was usually after getting caught standing too close to some man with his hand on her ass, with Luisa later claiming that he had come on to her. His own mother hated Luisa, calling her a faithless _puta_ to her face, so deep down Hector had had his doubts about how things had truly gone down with her and that Son at the bar.

Truth was, he had been prepared to let that shit go until that scumbag SAMCRO SAA had killed his young cousin. Hector's fate had been sealed right then, so even when Marcus Alvarez had ordered him to let it go, Hector knew that he couldn't and he wouldn't. Instead, he had botched a hit on those sons of bitches so badly that nearly half his Club was either dead or in jail, with his best friend and VP missing.

Edgar had never called him as planned the day after their escape from Lodi and, through his contacts, Hector later discovered that Alvarez had stripped him of his President's patch and had given it to Roscoe. In an effort to make nice with the Sons, Alvarez had also declared that Hector was to be brought in alive so that he could turn him over to SAMCRO.

Hector had been so proud that he had been the one to negotiate the deal that included having the Mayans patch over his Club. As a bonus, Hector would become an officer while his crew helped Alvarez expand the Mayan H trade. The deal would have brought Hector and his brothers a whole lot of cash and he would have been a part of a well-known criminal organization whose name inspired equal parts fear and respect.

Only now did he realize what he had been up against. Not having yet been patched over, there was no way the Mayans would have risked igniting a war with SAMCRO by sanctioning the hit on their SAA. Alvarez had offered to broker a sit down between the two crews, but Hector had brushed it off, chalking it up to a lack of balls on the aging Mayan's part. Now Roscoe, the puto bitch who refused to back his President up by taking over the streets of Charming, would be the one to benefit from the deal he had arranged.

With both the Sons and the Mayans looking for him, Hector knew that sooner or later, someone would find him. He had to strike first before that happened. His plan, though risky, was all he could think of that would not only net him some easy money, but would help him avenge Pozo.

_Only then can me and Luisa can get the hell out of California._

Ordering his old lady to fix him something to eat, Hector sat down in an old worn armchair while he continued plotting out his plan.

_Payback is a bitch, esé._


	7. Into Every Life Some Rain Must Fall

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Chief Unser slowly drove his squad car onto the T-M lot. It was mid-afternoon on a Thursday and the lot was swarming with activity. Pulling to a stop, Unser sat in his car as he took in the sight of mechanics and patches working together in several bays on various cars, as customers milled around waiting for their vehicles. It seemed like it was business as usual, a very ordinary day.

But it wasn't.

Finally parking his car in a spot close to the garage, the old police chief got out of his squad car. Slamming the door, Unser walked towards the Clubhouse like a condemned man walking to the gas chamber. He had some life-altering news to share and he could only hope that after many years of working with SAMCRO to protect the town that no one would shoot the messenger.

* * *

In spite of whatever ill feelings certain residents of Charming were harboring against the Sons, business at the garage had yet to suffer because of it. Considering that City Council and law enforcement were keeping a steady eye on the Club, Jax welcomed the legit work, which kept him and his brothers earning. With their gun-running enterprise tabled until they figured out whether shit would land right side up, it was best to keep busy in order to take their minds off of the failure that tracking down Salazar has been thus far.

Having heard yet another car enter the lot, Jax pulled himself out from under the hood of an Impala and straightened up in time to see the Charming Chief of Police about to pass on his way to the Clubhouse. Cleaning the grease from his hands with the rag hanging from the pocket of his jeans, Jax exited the bay. The outlaw biker, wearing a T-M work shirt and a backwards Reaper Crew baseball cap, swaggered towards him. "What's up, Chief? Wasn't expecting to see you today."

Unser sighed as he rubbed a hand over his bald spot. "Shit, Jax. We need to talk."

Jax furrowed his brow as he saw the lines on Unser's face deepen with worry. Giving a sharp whistle, Jax waved a hand to his brothers who were working in the garage before leading the Chief towards the Clubhouse. "Something tells me I'm gonna want a drink in my hand when you drop this shit on me."

"Sounds about right. I sure as hell wouldn't mind one myself." Unser replied.

Entering the Main Room behind Jax, who headed straight for the bar, Tig noticed his President's clenched jaw as Jax nodded at him slightly. Without a word spoken between them, Tig whistled loudly and called for all Prospects, hang-arounds and croweaters to beat a path out of the Clubhouse.

Taking a seat at the bar next to Jax, Unser took a large gulp of the whiskey that Bobby poured and set in front of him.

"So what's the deal?" Jax asked as he lit a cigarette.

"It looks like I'm out of a job." Unser said wearily.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Clay asked, taking a seat at one of the tables directly in front of the bar.

"It means that City Council had an emergency meeting last night." Unser started. "The only item on the agenda was Charming's dire need for assistance in dealing with the criminal element in our midst. And I don't think it was a coincidence that I was the only one not notified of this so-called 'emergency' meeting."

Curses and grumbling could be heard among the group. "How does that affect SAMCRO?" Happy asked, a perma-scowl on his face.

"Well, City Council voted unanimously to disband Charming PD in favor of bringing in the Sanwa Sheriffs to take over law and order in our fair town. All things considered, I'd say it affects SAMCRO rather badly." Unser replied sarcastically as he took another sip of his drink.

"Oh shyte, that's not good." Chibs said mournfully.

"No, it's not." Jax replied grimly. "How did this happen so fast?"

"You can thank Jacob Hale Jr. He's been working non-stop ever since the Taste of Charming incident to make this happen. His persistence has finally paid off."

"Shit!" Jax cursed roundly. "How long before the Sanwa Sherriffs take over?"

"They're gonna move fast on this. Two, three months at the most. Most of my deputies are being 'absorbed' into the Sheriff's Department and most likely will end up spread out all over Sanwa County."

"Fuck! That'll give us less access to them _and_ their Intel. More than half of Charming PD's on our payroll." Tig said.

"And if they're smart, they'll move a shitload of new pigs in." Bobby added.

"Yeah, the type of pigs that probably won't or can't be bought." Juice added.

"That seems to be the plan." Unser agreed. "Whatever Intel came from me and my squad—speed traps, roadblocks, routes and highways under heavy patrol between here and Oak-Town, raids, warrants, all of that—the Club won't have access to any more. The plan is to increase the number of cops per resident, so you'll probably have another 10-15 cops to contend with, too."

"That's 50 cops, and none under our control, bruthas. That's gunna make it hard to earn." Chibs remarked.

"Charming PD may be history, but the Sanwa Sheriff is keeping you around, right?" Jax asked Unser.

"I'm afraid not. It was ever-so-politely, yet strongly recommended that now would be a good time for me to retire, especially with my illness." Unser reached over to snatch the joint that Half-Sack was smoking out of his hand. "I need this more than you do, son." Taking a good hit, Unser exhaled. "It seems that this old dog will be the first to go."

"Shit!" Clay growled. "At this rate, we'll be next on the chopping block if we don't do something about it."

"I think that's the plan. That mess with the Calaveras couldn't have happened at a worse time." Unser advised. Jax and Clay exchanged a look as they both saw Tig wince. Balling his hands into his hair, Tig cursed himself as he turned away from the group.

"Looks like this town is suffering from short- and long-term memory loss." Jax said bitterly. "It's forgetting all the Club's done for it throughout the years."

"Yeah, well, flying bullets can have that effect on people screaming and running for their lives." Unser said wryly.

"Whatever." Happy said gruffly. "In the end, SAMCRO were the only ones to suffer any losses."

As everyone angrily voiced their agreement with Happy, Unser stubbed out the joint. "I just wanted to give you boys a head's up, you know, before the Club heard it on the street." Unser got up and clapped Jax on the shoulder. "Thanks for the drink. I'll continue keeping you in the loop for as long as I can."

Jax nodded. "And we appreciate that, Chief."

"A new day's dawning for Charming, for better or for worse." Unser said as he headed to the Clubhouse door. "I truly hope that SAMCRO will be able to survive it intact."

* * *

The rapid clicking of her high-heeled boots could be heard through the chaos that engulfed the hallways of Charming Middle School at the end of the day. It was like trying to swim upstream as Jolene tried to dodge the stampede of students rushing towards the exits as they ended their daily prison sentence. After getting a frantic call from Mary Winston, who was at a long-overdue doctor's appointment in Galt, Jolene had left her last class of the day in the capable hands of her Teacher's Assistant and had rushed right over.

It was unsurprising in a town like Charming how little the Middle School had changed since Jolene had last been in attendance. The red brick building housing almost 400 kids from the ages of 10 through 13 was just as noisy and rambunctious as ever, with the smell of Sloppy Joes, sweaty gym socks, and industrial-grade cleaning supplies permeating the hallways.

Entering the Administrative Office, Jolene made quite the fetching picture. Dressed in a form-fitting dark gray pencil skirt with a black turtleneck sweater and stylish ¾-length black leather trench, Jolene was the epitome of a young professional, the relatively new biker Queen of Charming nowhere to be found.

As she looked over to the seating area outside the Principal's office, her former home away from home, Jolene sighed with relief when her eyes fell on young Kenny Winston. The youngster was sitting quite casually as if he had absolutely no idea why he was there. With his arms crossed over his chest and his ever growing long legs encased in baggy jeans spread out in front of him, Kenny looked aloof and calm as he eyed the other occupants in the waiting area. Following Kenny's gaze, Jolene saw not one or two, but three boys of similar height and weight also waiting. The only visible difference among the little group was at least one bloody nose and the bruising on the faces of 3 out of the 4 boys.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Obviously, the three boys sitting across from Kenny had been involved in some sort of scrabble and, with Kenny looking relatively unharmed, it was also glaringly obvious as to whom had issued the epic beat down. Aside from bloody knuckles hastily wrapped in damp paper towels, it was clear that Kenny had been the victor of the encounter, the rapidly swelling black eyes and busted lips serving as evidence that the other boys had not faired well at all.

 _He is so much like his father_ , Jolene thought, biting her lip to try and hide a grin.

When Kenny looked up and saw that it was his aunt and not his grandmother strolling into the room, he sighed with relief. Considering the stories he's heard told about his Aunt Jo's nutcracking days, Kenny was quite confident that she wouldn't be a pain in the ass about this crap.

_If Grandma Helen had shown up instead, she wouldn't just nag me to death, but would probably give my ear a solid twist for good measure._

Walking up to her nephew, Jolene put a hand on a cocked hip. "You wanna tell me why my ass has been dragged down here or should I just use my superpowers of anti-bullshit detection," She nodded at the three sullen boys in the corner. "And figure this shit out on my own?"

Kenny flashed her with a wide and cheeky grin.

 _Obviously, the boy has been taking lessons from my baby boy Abel, who is definitely his father's son_ , Jolene smiled slightly as she sat down next to him.

"I just needed to take care of some shit, that's all." Kenny said offhandedly, as if it were no big deal.

Suddenly, the door to the Principal's office opened and his assistant motioned to Kenny and Jolene. "Mr. O'Leary will see you now."

Jolene sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. "Well, let's get this over with."

Other than a fresh coat of paint and some new carpet, the office had not changed all that much since the last time Jolene had been called to the carpet in this very room. Thinking of a flirty Gemma all those years ago, Jolene noticed that the Principal had managed to get better looking with age.

Principal Michael O'Leary had been new to the school during Jolene's time, having started as a single man in his early 30s. Now in his 50s with his brown wavy hair tinged with gray, Mr. O'Leary looked distinguished and sexy. Getting up from his desk adorned with a number of pictures of his large family, Principal O'Leary stepped around the desk to shake hands with Jolene.

"Oh my goodness!" Mr. O'Leary smiled engagingly. "Jolene Morrow. It has been a _long_ time."

Jolene smiled ruefully. "Yes, it has. So long, I was almost hoping that you might not remember me."

The Principal chuckled. "I would have a hard time ever forgetting not only one of Charming Middle School's best students, but also its most troublesome. You were somewhat of an avenging angel of the playground, if I remember correctly, striking fear in the hearts of boys who called you 'The Nutcracker', isn't that right?"

As Kenny snorted under his breath, Jolene tried to keep herself from smiling at the thought that she was something of a legend in the halls of Charming MS. " _That_ was a long time ago."

"Well, it seems that your legacy lives on through your young charge here." The Principal crossed his arms as he leaned against the front of his desk. "Would you care to explain exactly why we are here this afternoon, Harold?"

Kenny grimaced at the use of his given name. "It's Kenny," He replied. "Or Harry, but I don't go by Harold."

"Point taken." Mr. O'Leary nodded. "Other than that, do you have anything else you would like to add?"

Kenny shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, not really."

"Maybe you should just tell me what happened, Mr. O'Leary." Jolene said after it became clear that Kenny wasn't going to be the one to rat himself out.

"According to the three students sitting outside my office, it seems that _Kenny_ instigated a situation where, as a result, those same boys ended up visiting the Nurse's office earlier today." The Principal explained.

Jolene raised an eyebrow. "So those boys are claiming that Kenny started _it_ , whatever 'it' is."

"Yes. You know, Jolene, after many years of doing my job, one develops a sixth sense. I'm sure you understand what I'm talking about, being a teacher yourself. You learn what to look out for when it comes to determining who the troublemakers might be even before trouble has the chance to rear its ugly head. I must say, Kenny Winston has never set off any of my warning bells." Mr. O'Leary remarked. "A class clown who could probably end up on the Honor Roll if he only applied himself he may be, but definitely not a thug prone to throwing punches unprovoked. However, unless Kenny would like to share the events as they actually happened, I have no other choice but to take the word of the three boys he fought with."

 _That's not happening_ , Kenny rolled his eyes. _Obviously, Mr. O'Leary never got the memo. There ain't nothing worse than a damn rat!_ _The three douchebags sitting outside just proved that_.

Like his own father, grandfather, and his Uncle Jax, Kenny had a strict code of honor that he abided by. Running to outsiders to settle his shit or dropping the dime on others was never an option. A real man handled his own shit, whatever the consequences! Besides, as simple as it would have been to explain the situation to Mr. O'Leary, Kenny wanted the smack down he had laid on that trio of punk asses to be the last word on this issue. Namely, that even for youngsters who spent much of their time dealing with bullies by ignoring them, there was that one line that should never be crossed.

_You don't ever talk shit about my mother._

Kenny—the only son of the soft-spoken, but tough outlaw biker his Aunt Jo called "Sasquatch"—worked hard to emulate his old man. Where his grandfather Piney had been gruff and, as some would say, a mean old bastard with a hair-trigger temper, his father was slow to anger, but without warning, could be the first to throw a punch.

' _Quiet rage,' Uncle Jax calls it_ , Kenny thought. An explosive temper with a fuse that varied in length, making it anyone's guess whether or not Opie Winston lost his shit. It was a good front, Kenny reasoned, because sometimes his old man seemed to be impervious to hurt or sorrow. Perfecting that façade would take time, however, as Kenny still had a tendency to lose his shit when the wrong buttons were pushed.

Today had been one of those days.

So in spite of what had happened, Kenny was prepared to take his lumps. The wrongdoers had been punished and it wasn't necessary to blab about what had gone down, least of all to his aunt. As a man, it was his job to protect the ones he loved from hurt and he refused to burden Aunt Jo any further with his problems.

"I don't have anything else to say."

Jolene put an arm around her nephew and nudged his chin towards her with her free hand. "Are you sure, baby?"

Kenny nodded. "I'm sure, Aunt Jo."

The Principal, seeing the stalwart look upon the young boy's face, sighed. "I'm sorry, Jolene. I really wanted to take into consideration the events of the last month, but without cooperation, my hands are tied."

Looking into young Kenny's sad cobalt blue eyes, Jolene suddenly understood. With a small nod at Kenny, Jolene replied, "We understand, Mr. O'Leary. I take it this means suspension?"

"Our zero tolerance policy against violence still applies. I have no choice but to suspend Kenny, along with the other boys, for the next two weeks. You understand what that means, right Kenny?"

"Yup." Kenny kept his game face on even though he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep himself from doing back flips down the hall. "That means no school."

"Two weeks does seem a little excessive," Jolene started, startling both Kenny and Mr. O'Leary. "Considering the potential you see in him to excel as a student."

"Well, hopefully, Kenny can devote his time at home to catching up with his schoolwork." Mr. O'Leary suggested.

"That's a wonderful idea," Jolene smiled, causing Kenny's shoulders to slump. "I would be grateful if you could arrange for Kenny's teachers to provide a list of all assignments and projects he will miss during his absence. Maybe working together we can get him on track and onto the Honor Roll."

Principal O'Leary coughed slightly as he smiled at the young woman facing him.

_I always knew I liked her._

* * *

Jolene kicked off her boots as soon as she stepped foot inside her home and was nearly knocked over as her son and his best friend ran past her towards the back of the house with Ellie trailing in their wake.

"Hey, watch it, you guys!" She called out as she rubbed her aching feet.

"Sorry, Mom!" Abel called out, dropping his backpack as he headed for the kitchen to see Neeta and his dog.

Abel stopped long enough to assault his little sister by tugging on her pony tail in the hall as he passed her, with Kenny following up with a quick tickle to her ribs. Still trailing behind, Ellie gave the tiny tot a quick hug. The Brat Pack, as the three older children were affectionately known, were more interested in getting some grub and playing around with Chopper than socializing with the toddler.

"I'm gonna get you!" Maddy yelled after them, waving her tiny balled up fist for emphasis, before running towards her mother.

Bending to scoop her little girl into her arms, Jolene rubbed her face into the crook of her giggling daughter's neck. "Did you miss me?"

Pulling back from her mother's embrace, Maddy nodded emphatically after laying a big, wet kiss on her mother's lips. "Uh huh. Is Kenny in trouble?"

Jolene wrinkled her eyebrow. "How do you know about that?"

"I heard Miss Neeta talkin' on the phone to Grandma. Was he bad?" Maddy quirked her head to the side, her brow furrowed with worry, afraid that she would finally witness her mother placing her shoe up someone's butt.

"A little. He won't be going to school for a while and might be hanging around here for a bit." Jolene replied.

Maddy's smile brightened. "That's good. I get tired playing with TJ. Did you know he spit up on me today?" She complained.

"He did?" Jolene asked worriedly.

Recognizing the look of concern on her mother's face, Maddy grabbed Jolene's face in both her little hands, which were a little sticky with something that smelled like grape jelly. "It's okay, Mommy. He's not sick. He just didn't like the beans Miss Neeta gave him." She wrinkled her nose. "I would spit up on me too if I had to eat that stuff."

"Well, let's go check up on him anyway." Placing her daughter on her hip, Jolene headed to the kitchen and found the Brat Pack already chowing down on sandwiches and chips, while Neeta poured them some milk. TJ, sitting in a walker, beelined it across the room as soon as he saw his mother as Chopper excitedly ran circles around him.

"I see Kenny here is all in one piece." Neeta snarked. "What about the other dude?" She directed her question to Kenny.

"Oh, them?" Kenny waved it away casually. "I stomped the piss out of all _three_ of them." He boasted.

"Three?" Abel asked, his green eyes wide with awe and Kenny nodded as he stuffed a quarter of his sandwich into his mouth. "Hell's yeah! Up high, bro!" Jolene rolled her eyes as the two besties did their hand-slapping, elbow-popping bro handshake.

" _Three_?" Neeta silently mouthed at Jolene behind Kenny's back as the young mother nodded with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Setting her daughter down, Jolene bent to pick up her baby, who was gurgling and drooling with excitement.

"So what happened?" Neeta inquired.

Kenny shrugged it off. "Weren't no shit, but I earned myself a two-week vacation."

"You are _not_ on vacation." Jolene reminded him as she rubbed noses with TJ. "You'll have plenty to do in your 'down time'. And watch that potty mouth before I sentence you to hard labor as well." Turning to Neeta, Jolene said a little anxiously. "Maddy said TJ spit up today?"

The older woman was already shaking her head. "I completely forgot that our little man here ain't a fan of green beans. He ate the rest of his meal just fine. Although, by the looks of it, he might be thirsty." Neeta smiled as TJ's little blond head rooted around trying to find his mother's breast. "I guess there's nothing like milk fresh from the cow. You better see about your boy."

"Okay, not really interested in seeing that." Abel spoke up, a bit horrified. "Let's go finish our food outside." As the children grabbed their plates and headed outside through the patio doors, Maddy and Chopper followed right behind them.

Taking a quick minute to wash her hands, Jolene settled herself down in a chair to see to her son's needs.

Neeta Benson smiled as she watched the young woman prepping herself to feed her son. The older woman still had a hard time believing that the snot-nosed tomboy she used to stuff with food was now a grown young mother of three.

Neeta, at Gemma's insistence, had happily made the leap to working in the Teller home full-time. At the time, with two young children to raise, a large home, a full-time job, and an old man who demanded as much attention as all of the above combined, Gemma knew that Jolene needed all the help she could get.

Even though she made quite a show by grumbling about it, what with adding Nanny to her list of duties, Neeta really didn't have to be convinced otherwise. Aside from the extremely generous salary Jax offered her, Neeta knew that in the Teller household her word was law and she loved it. Unlike Gemma—the relentless taskmaster—Jolene was just grateful she had someone she trusted implicitly with her babies and let Neeta run the house as she saw fit.

As her son quickly latched onto her nipple with a little sigh of relief, Jolene giggled. "He is so much like his father."

"Yup, TJ's definitely a breast man like his dear ol' dad, huh?" Neeta smirked as she put a sandwich on the table for Jolene. "Careful you don't smother that poor child. I swear, one of those things is bigger than that boy's head." She was about to go check on the laundry, when the doorbell rang. "Damn, who's that at the door? Now I got to schlep my fat ass over there."

Jolene grinned as the older woman headed towards the front door. She was so busy playing with her son's little hands that she barely paid attention to the labored footfalls coming her way.

"So what did my favorite grandson do now?" Mary Winston groused as she threw her handbag on the dining room table and sat down.

"Hey, Mary. Don't you mean your only grandson?" Jolene snarked. Taking a good look at the slightly flushed face of the older woman, Jolene suddenly grew concerned. "Everything okay with you, Mary?"

It was plain to see that Mary was not in the best of health, which was why she had gone to see her doctor in Galt and had been unable to see about Kenny. Mary was sure that her blood pressure was probably through the roof and that she would need her medication readjusted.

Taking care of a family once again wasn't an easy task, especially for someone her age and in such poor health. Mary herself was still grieving for not just her daughter-in-law, but her estranged husband as well. With Ope out playing Hobo as he tried to get his shit together, Mary and the children were left behind to not only pick up the pieces but to deal with outside pressures as well. She would be forever grateful to the young woman whom Opie loved like a sister and his best friend. Without Jolene and Jax to help with the kids, Mary was sure she'd be on her way to a reunion with her old man.

"Let me tell ya, life was a hell of a lot easier when I was young, beautiful and a stripper." Mary replied before taking a long and deep drink from the tall glass of iced tea Neeta had set in front of her. "Oh my God, that really hit the spot! Thanks, honey. You make the best damn tea I ever had. When you gonna give me that recipe?"

Neeta grinned as she sat down at the table. "It's all in the brewing, girl."

It took another long sip before the color in Mary's face returned to normal. "So what happened with Kenny at the school?"

Jolene related what she had managed to cull from her meeting with the Principal. It wasn't much, but Jolene had her theories with regards to the actual cause of the scuffle. "Kenny refuses to talk about it, so as a result, he and the boys he fought all got suspended."

"Lord, the apple sure don't fall far from the tree. If I had a dollar for each time I had to schlep my ass down to the school about Opie, I could probably afford medication that wasn't generic. Thanks for going to see about him, Jolene."

"Don't mention it. You know I'd do anything for Kenny and Ellie." Jolene replied and suddenly winced.

Neeta chuckled as she poured Mary another glass of tea. "Bit ya again, huh? When are you gonna wean that boy?"

"Probably as soon as he draws blood." Jolene replied. "Ouch! Which I think he just did." Turning to Mary, Jolene asked, "So what did your doctor have to say?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "The usual. I need to slow down, lose some weight, eat healthy and all that happy shit." She sighed. "The thing is, I think it's time I started listening to him. My grandkids need me, now more than ever, especially with Ope gone."

"Have you heard from him?" Jolene asked, her brow furrowed. She hadn't spoken to Opie since he had taken off on his walkabout.

"He calls about every other night. Called last night. He's in Baja now." Mary replied.

"That's a long ways from home and not where I'd expect him to end up." Neeta said.

"I'm just afraid he'll go to the ends of the earth to clear his head and never come back." Mary confessed, her eyes suddenly moist. "I just want him to get some help because I don't know what to do for him. The only two that would are gone. Shit! I barely know what to do for myself." She cried.

Jolene reached out to place her hand on top of Mary's. "I know it's been real hard for you."

The older woman sniffed, accepting the wad of tissue Neeta handed her from a box she had quickly retrieved from the pantry. Wiping her eyes, Mary sighed. "I shouldn't burden you like this. I know it's been rough on everyone. I just don't know what to do for those kids anymore. Ellie still cries herself to sleep and Kenny tries to be tough, but I know he's fighting at school because he's hurting. They don't even have their grandfather to comfort them." Her voice broke as she proceeded to sob into her tissue. "Stupid, old fool! Just when I thought I was over the old coot. Just goes to show ya, I still loved that crazy, drunk bastard."

Jolene felt her own eyes tearing up. "I know you still loved him, Mary, but at least he didn't go alone. He made sure to take several pieces of shit with him that day."

Mary chuckled in spite of her still flowing tears. "I should have seen it coming. Piney was always a man of few words, but a helluva lot of action. But who knew the old dog still had that much life in him?" She blew her nose. "I never even knew that he was so sick, which doesn't surprise me at all. He hated having people feel sorry for him and probably couldn't stand knowing that death had him on a schedule. He was only ever going to die on his own terms. Always said so."

Bringing TJ up to her shoulder, Jolene grabbed and squeezed one of Mary's hands, the only way she could think of comforting the woman who had such a complicated relationship with the co-founder of SAMCRO.

Blowing her nose one last time and wiping away the last of her tears, Mary took a deep breath. "Is it any wonder I can't control my blood pressure. Piney leaves me, Opie leaves me, and now here I am with these kids trying to deal with their crazy grandma. I swear, one of these days, I may do that woman some violence."

Jolene's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Donna's mother. That woman is over at the house two, three, four times a week. Never has anything good to say, either. Not even to her own grandchildren. Constantly criticizing me and how I take care of Kenny and Ellie, and the house. Always asking about Opie, calling him a deadbeat and other delightful names until the kids are crying. I am one more snide comment away from kicking her uptight ass." Mary frowned. "Oh, and just wait until she finds out about Kenny being suspended. She is going to be up my ass and I just don't have the energy to deal with her anymore."

"Listen, Mary, don't worry about it. And don't mention it to her either." Jolene advised. "I want Kenny to spend the next two weeks here during the day, with Neeta, that is, if that's okay with the both of you."

"I ain't got a problem with the boy. Besides, he can distract Maddy when she gets rambunctious on me." Neeta smiled.

"I don't have a problem with it either." Mary replied.

"Okay, then. I'll stop by in the mornings and pick up the kids, drop Kenny off back here before taking Abel and Ellie to school. That way you won't have to leave the house. Take a few days to sleep in." Jolene advised.

"That sounds like heaven." Mary beamed. Getting up, Opie's mother bent over to hug the younger woman. "Donna was always singing your praises. Witnessing first hand how you bend over backwards to help your loved ones, I can see now why she loved you so much." She whispered, making Jolene's heart clench.

* * *

Finally ditching, Ellie and Maddy as they headed to the kitchen to make cupcakes with Neeta, Abel and Kenny ran upstairs. Locking the door behind him, Abel faced his friend.

"So what happened, man?" Abel asked as Kenny leaned his back against Abel's bed while sitting on the floor and looked at his friend. Although Abel was younger than Kenny by almost four years, the two had forged a friendship from the moment Abel Teller had come to Charming. They pretty much shared everything and despite being in different schools, each had the other's back and would take the other's side, regardless of the right or wrong of it.

"A couple of ass wipes were giving me shit," Kenny started. "About Mom."

Sliding onto the floor next to Kenny, Abel shook his head. "That sucks. What the fucktards say?"

"This shit stays between you and me, right?" Kenny warned.

"Absolutely, bro. I would never rat you out." Abel declared.

"Some asshole said that his Dad believes that Mom got what she deserved for hanging around dirty bikers."

"Shit, that's harsh." Abel said angrily.

"I may not have killed the messenger, but I sure did break his fuckin' nose." Kenny smiled. "That's when his two buddies decided it was time to save his ass. All they did was piss me off more."

"Three against one?" Abel smiled.

Kenny nodded. "Could have broken at least one more nose, too but some damn teacher broke it up."

"Does Mom know?" Abel asked and Kenny shook his head as he bit his thumbnail. "And you're not gonna tell her what happened? It might get you out of trouble, bro."

"Nah. Trouble don't bother me none. I just don't want it getting back to Ellie. She's having a hard enough time without Dad around." Kenny replied.

"What about you?" Abel asked softly.

"I'll be fine," Kenny shrugged his shoulders and then quickly swiped at his eyes. "As soon as my Dad comes home."

* * *

Clay Morrow put down his pool cue after he sent the 8 ball spinning into the right corner pocket. Cutting loose with a shit-eating grin, he held out his hand. "Pay up, asshole! Now that's what I call easy money."

Giving him a sour look, Rusty Quinn, the Nomad President, pulled out a $100 bill and slapped it in the palm of his hand. "Damn! Somebody should have told my ass that you still got game. That surgery really did wonders for you, huh?"

"That it did, my brother. That it did." Clay smiled as he flexed his hands before folding the bill and putting it into the pocket of his cut.

 _I should be able to buy something nice for my granddaughter with that_.

While Clay no longer had the hands of a young man, the surgery he chose to have three years ago had alleviated much of the pain and suffering that had become a part of who the outlaw biker was. Reclaiming the use of his hands had also allowed him to regain his seat at the table as Clay continued to enjoy the freedom of the road on his beloved Harley. Even now, despite the fact that it was full-on winter, Clay was finding that his rheumatoid arthritis was now manageable with over-the-counter medication, which was a big thrill to both his old lady and daughter.

Clay was thoroughly enjoying his retirement. Making the decision to step down permanently as SAMCRO President, while difficult, had ultimately been the best thing for him. It allowed him to heal from the road accident he had four years ago, and provided the opportunity to slow down his pace a little, grow old with his old lady and live long enough to spoil his grandchildren. While he still played a significant role within the Club whenever his wise counsel was required, it was now Jax's responsibility and burden to keep the MC going and, so far, he was doing a damn fine job.

Sure, Jax had his share of troubles lately, not the least of them being this mess with the CL and the death of his VP's old lady and father, but into every life some rain must fall. Clay, and even JT before him, had suffered great losses during their tenures as President, only to bounce back exponentially. Clay had no doubt that SAMCRO, under Jax Teller's leadership, would bounce back as well. In spite of the outside forces trying to destroy their very existence.

It had been two months since the deaths of Donna and Piney Winston and the Club was still reeling from the impact. Clay never realized just how much he would miss the cantankerous, hard-living and hard-drinking biker. Piney had not only been his sponsor, but he had been a good friend and mentor as well. It felt wrong to Clay that Opie was not among them, mourning and healing together as a family. According to Jax, Ope needed an outlet to vent his anger, rage, and frustration in a way that didn't fracture the Club as Opie had wanted Tig's head on a platter. Maybe looking at the situation from the outside would give Opie the perspective he needed to realize that ultimately Tig was not responsible for the deaths of his loved ones.

Clay gazed around the room until his eyes found his former SAA. Tig was sitting on one of the couches, an almost empty bottle of Jack resting on the floor between his feet. The former SAMCRO President was pretty sure that the bottle had been a new one when the after-Church party had first started.

Mentally, Tig was in a place that many recognized, but that no one envied whatsoever. The wild and crazy-eyed Sergeant-at-Arms was a hell raiser, there was no doubt, but ever since Bloody Saturday, the man had changed and Clay only hoped that the man he's known and respected for years was still somewhere deep inside. Albeit, that man was probably drowning in a fifth of whiskey, but Clay hoped that the Tig of old was poised for a comeback. His brothers, even though they loved him dearly, were starting to question whether Tig would be able to handle his shit and bounce back despite what had happened.

Both Jax and Clay knew he could. Now it was just a matter of convincing Tig.

As an enforcer for the Club, Tig had been asked to do some pretty shitty grunt work over the years. The tasks, no matter how bloody or violent, always seemed to come easy to him, thanks to the horrors he witnessed as a Marine serving his country in the Gulf and Honduras during the mid-to-late 80's.

Clay had not known what kind of man Tig was before he had patched into SAMTAC, but he had heard the stories and as a former war veteran himself, Clay knew what kind of shit men faced on a daily basis as they went into battle. It often changed them, dehumanized them and turned them into stone-cold killers. Apparently, Tig wasn't any different. He had simply found other ways to deal with some of the crap he had he internalized.

The camaraderie and brotherhood he experienced in SAMCRO had given Tig his humanity back. The stone-cold killer had a conscience after all and it was obvious from the vacant look in his eyes that Tig needed help. Heading over to his brother, Clay grimaced to himself.

_I think I'm going to need a cigar for this shit._

* * *

Sitting across from his former President at the Redwood table, Tig wondered what the fuck he was still doing here. Ever since Bloody Saturday, Tig has felt like a man who steps out of a clear blue sky and falls into the cold blackness of a horrifying reality.

Tig never considered himself as the philosophical type. He wasn't a pussy, after all. When his life turned to shit, as it had many times before, he usually had a direct hand in it. Right now wasn't any different. After Colleen had taken the girls and left him, Tig had resigned himself to living for the brotherhood and for a long time, his life had been good. One moment of douchbaggery, however, and he was back in that shitty place again, and being here and alive, while an innocent woman was decomposing in the ground, was the last place he wanted to be.

"You need to talk, brother." Clay's voice, strong and authoritative, spoke into the silence.

"Ain't shit to talk about, Clay." Tig's voice was rough and whiskey-soaked as he rubbed at his bloodshot eyes with the heels of his hands. Clay quickly intercepted as Tig once again reached for the bottle of Jack and placed it out of his reach.

"You can't lose yourself inside a bottle of booze, Tigger." Clay said softly.

"Oh yeah, I can." Tig looked into the steely blue eyes of his brother. "What I can't do is bring back the dead."

"No you can't," Clay shook his head sadly. "But drinking your ass into an early grave won't change what happened."

"I know that, Clay, but maybe it'll save Opie the trouble of doing it for me."

"Tig—"

"Nah, nah, what?!" Tig slammed his fist down on the Redwood table. "You telling me that if it were Jolene that was six feet under in Charming Memorial Park right now that I wouldn't be dead right alongside her?"

Clay almost shuddered as Tig made his point. "Maybe not. The reality is that this shit is not all your fault. There's plenty of blame to go around. What you need to do is get your head out of your ass and remember that."

"I don't know, man. I don't think that's going to happen." Tig shook his head wearily.

"Only because you won't let it. Shit, brother, you are the SAMCRO SAA and my son needs you, this Club needs you. With the Sanwa Sheriffs taking over Charming law enforcement, we will not survive if we cannot repair this fracture between brothers and do what needs to be done." Clay argued and Tig laughed bitterly.

"Just another fucked up situation that can be laid directly at my feet, Clay. I might as well just turn in my SAA patch, transfer to another charter."

Now it was Clay's turn to bang a fist angrily on the table. "The hell you will! I don't know what you need to get your head straight, but whatever it is, you better figure out a way to get yourself there and fast. It's your job to stand between your President and any shit that goes down. You accepted that patch, that is the vow you made." Clay said roughly, but quickly pulled himself back. "Brother, you are a big part of this charter, a big part of the SAMCRO family. Opie will be home soon and you need to have your shit straight in order to work things out with your brother. Without the two of you at the table, this charter is going to buckle and break under the weight of your guilt and his pain. And we can't let that happen."

Standing up, Clay held out his hand. Tig looked at the bear claw for so long that Clay was starting to think that Tig would refuse to take it. In actuality, Tig was having a hell of a time trying to focus and saw three hands floating in front of him. Realizing that there was nothing worse he could be than a sad, pathetic drunk, Tig, finally grasped it.

Clay pulled him up out of his seat and into the standard bro hug. "We need you, brother. You understand that?"

Tig nodded. "I hear you brother."


	8. Road Weary and Still Broken

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

"I don't know what I'm gonna do." Opie said quietly. "I guess that's why I came. You're probably the only one who can understand what I'm going through."

Big Otto Delaney leaned back in his chair and sighed. Looking down at his right forearm, he was comforted by the constant reminder of the love that he had for his deceased old lady, her name tattooed into his skin in bold black script. "I know, bro. I know."

The two men sat in the Visitor's Center of Stockton prison. Big Otto sighed as he thought about the years that had gone by as he looked at the younger man sitting across from him over the metal table.

It was hard for Otto to believe that he had served nearly a dime on his 15-to-life sentence for the second degree murder of a fellow inmate. Otto's hair, having been sprinkled with gray when he started his sentence, was now liberally covered with silvery white hairs. Living his life as the guest of the State of California was certainly no picnic.

Regardless of the fact that he was stuck in prison, Otto continued to have much love for his SAMCRO family. It had been a bad day when Jax Teller had come to give him the news of the deaths of Opie's wife and father, the situation made even grimmer when one considered the events that had led to both tragedies.

It was obvious from looking at his brother that the VP of the mother charter was in a bad way. It was reflected in the looseness of his clothes, the gaunt look of his face, and the anger that Otto could see reflected in his eyes.

 _I don't even want to think about how Tig is doing_.

Otto had been responsible for bringing Tig down from Tacoma to replace him as SAA when Clay had offered him the VP spot. Clay had gotten to know the crazy bastard from SAMTAC over the years and thought that he would be useful as an enforcer for the Club and as the man that would protect his back. It had ended up being a good fit, although sometimes, with the two of them together, Otto would have to be the voice of reason at the table, as Tig was all about "killing shit" and Clay could be something of a reactive nut job if let on the loose.

Now, as Opie sat across from him, looking for counsel and wisdom, Otto tried to help him the best way he knew how. "Bro, I'm gonna give you the same advice I gave Jolene a long time ago. What you need to do is go home."

Opie ran a hand over the knit cap on his head. "I know, but how can I continue to share a patch with the brother responsible for the death of my family?" He growled fiercely.

"Look, man, you have every right to feel that way. That's some powerful shit that went down, but I kinda understand where you're coming from." Big Otto said. "As much as I love Clay, there was a time when I resented him because Gemma survived the accident that killed my old lady."

"But it's not really the same thing, Otto. Clay had nothing to do with the accident."

"No, he didn't, but I was in a really bad place. The issues you have with Tig are definitely different, I agree, and you are well within your rights to be angry, but be honest with yourself, Ope. Do you honestly believe that Tig intended for shit to go down like this?" Otto asked.

Opie gritted his teeth, and then relaxed. "No, I don't."

"Then direct your rage at the right target. The fact is, you may never have the same relationship with your brother again, but killing him is not the answer. Staying away from Charming and the Club is not the answer either. All you have ever known is SAMCRO. Can you honestly walk away from the Club, the way of life you have based your entire existence on and say that your life would be better off without it all?"

"I don't know the answer to that. I thought about going Nomad, no ties to any one charter, just me and the road, but Jax wouldn't let me."

"Good. He was right. It takes a different breed of man to be a Nomad. Most of them are solitary, angry men who can't even function within the confines of a charter, much less the rest of society. That's not you, Ope. You may have lost your wife, but more than anything, you're a family man. What you need to do is go back home to Charming and take care of that beautiful family you were blessed with. Your kids have been without a father for almost three months, grieving the loss of their mother and grandfather. Whatever shit you have to deal with emotionally, they're not to blame for it. You shouldn't punish them, and yourself, by isolating yourself from them.

"You are blessed in that you had a family with the woman you loved. I know you may not find comfort in that when all you wanna do is hold your old lady in your arms, but Donna isn't dead, bro. She's alive in your children and all you have to do is hug them close to feel her in your heart. Go home, Ope. I'll be a sad old man when I get out of here—if I ever get out of here—and all I have to go back home to is this Club. My heart breaks for you, brother, but I'd give anything to be you right now. You have two little people who love ya and are waiting on ya at home and they deserve the best father you can be, that you have always been. You're also a true brother and an amazing officer to a charter that needs you at the table. Jax needs you and together I know you two, along with the rest of the Club, will get justice for your family from the only person really responsible. When you do, do me a favor and move the fuck on. You get me?"

For the first time in a long time, Opie heard what was being said to him and it was making an impact.

"Yeah, I hear you, brother. Thank you."

* * *

There was something very peaceful about riding on the road at night.

Being on the open road at any time of the day was something that any true biker loved, but Opie enjoyed it even more, found it soothing really, riding along the bends and curves of the road in the dark of night. During the day, when everything was exposed and open in the daylight, the scenery could sometimes be a distraction. At night, however, when all you could really see was the road directly in front of you, illuminated by one headlight, a rider could allow his mind to tackle all of the shit he might not want to acknowledge in the harsh light of day.

After three months on the road, Opie had finally made the decision to go home.

He had hoped that taking a break from Charming would help him escape the demons that plagued him, give his restless spirit the chance to re-explore the open roads he had fallen in love with as a kid. Truth was, nothing could soothe his broken soul when it came to dealing with losing the love of his life, the only thing keeping him from eating his gun being his need for revenge.

It had taken a full week of musing over Big Otto's advice to give him the clarity needed to finally see how selfish he had been. Opie soon realized that Jax had been right. Running away from his shit only guaranteed that more shit would be waiting for him once he returned. Now, as he headed home from Yosemite National Park, Opie had the added guilt of failing his loved ones—his deceased wife and father, his brotherhood and extended SAMCRO family, but especially his own children. Instead of being a rock, the constant that Kenny and Ellie could cling to, Opie had run away, a bitter and broken man.

Three months away from his family and all Opie knew for sure was that not only was he still broken, but now he was road weary as well.

 _Pop would be so fuckin' disappointed in me_.

Piney had been far from perfect as a husband and father, but at least he had never abandoned his family. Hearing some of the last words his father had spoken to him shortly before chasing his death echo in his head, Opie finally realized that Piney had been trying to give him guidance the best way he knew how.

" _Losing Donna, this is your 'Nam, boy and you need this Club to prop you up when all you want to do is lay down and die. So now's not the time to second guess the choices you made in your life. I know it's hard, Ope, but you need to be there for Ellie and Kenny, give 'em the love and support they need. That's what your old lady would want."_

As he turned the corner onto the street on which he lived, Opie looked at the homes of his neighbors. He noted bicycles and skateboards carelessly left on front lawns by the children who lived there. Family cars parked in driveways and garages, put to rest for the night. The warm glow of lights from deep within cozy houses as happy families sat down to enjoy a meal or favorite TV show together. In Opie's mind, before his road trip, these small slices of the American Pie life were no longer an option for him.

Now, although still mourning Donna, Opie finally understood the meaning of "life goes on." It goes on whether you want it to or not and it was up to him to make his home happy again for the sake of his children.

_That's what my old lady would want._

Suddenly, his own house came into view, the only visible sign of life coming from the light on in the living room. Even before he pulled his bike into the driveway, he could see two shadowed bodies jumping up from what was probably the couch and running past the windows that faced the front yard. Opie saw the porch light come on, illuminating the front yard, and heard the door being yanked open. Cutting the motor, he heard the thundering of sneakered feet running down the short flight of porch steps, hitting the walkway and running across the front lawn, rounding the corner to the garage.

"Dad! Daddy! You're home!"

Jumping off of his bike, Opie turned and felt his heart swell in his throat as the two most precious people in his life, his son and daughter, what was left of his family, streaked across the lawn. And just like when the twins were younger and he would come home from a run, Opie found himself kneeling with open arms as they slammed into him, nearly knocking him on his ass.

As his arms wrapped around his two shuddering and crying children, Opie allowed his own tears to rain down his face as he hugged them fiercely.

Looking up, he managed a grin as his mother, using her favorite cane, had made it outside to watch the Winstons' tearful reunion.

 _Big Otto was right_ , Opie thought. _This is where I belong_.

* * *

"Why did you leave, Daddy? Why, without even saying goodbye?" Ellie cried tearfully.

Sitting on the couch in their living room, Opie sat back as he contemplated his daughter's angry and tear-filled blue eyes and sighed. He had known that this was probably going to be the hardest part about coming home, explaining to his children what a coward he had been.

"Because it was easier that way." Opie replied honestly, reaching out and, with his large hand, stroked his daughter's hair. "I guess I knew that running away was the wrong thing to do and it would be easier for me if I didn't see you and Kenny first. I was being selfish and a fuckin' coward." He murmured.

"That really sucks, Dad." Kenny eyed his father. "We didn't do anything wrong."

"No, you didn't." Opie replied adamantly. "My leaving, it had nothing to do with you. That shit was all on me. I guess part of the reason I left was because I felt responsible for what happened your Mom."

Kenny crossed his arms and looked at his father angrily. "Now you sound like Grandma Helen. She's a real pain in the ass." He retorted.

Ellie gasped. "You shouldn't say that about Nana."

"It's the truth and you know it." Kenny shot back. "Look how she acted at Mom and Grandpa's funeral. She blamed Dad for what happened when everybody knows it was that piece of shit MC."

"Of course Daddy didn't have anything to do with it," Ellie said, speaking more to Opie than Kenny. "But Mom wouldn't like you talking that way about Nana."

Hearing those words coming from his children, spoken with such authority in their belief that he wasn't responsible for their mother's death lifted Opie's heart.

Wrapping his strong arms around his children, Opie hugged them hard, his heart swelling with the love he had for his children as they returned his affection. Kissing them on their foreheads, Opie stroked his son's mop of strawberry blond hair and softly tugged on his daughter's sable-colored ponytail.

"Your grandmother's hurting, too." As deep as Helen Lerner had cut him with her words at the cemetery, Opie couldn't deny Donna's mother her pain, no matter how bitter the woman was. If anyone deserved to be mourned so ferociously, it was his old lady.

"But she's not the only one who misses Mom." Kenny said sagely. "Why does she have to take it out on us? We lost two people, just like Grand Mary, and she's always griping at her, too."

Ellie nodded in solemn agreement. "Yeah. There were a couple of times I thought Grand was gonna knock her out, though." She snickered as Opie quirked a questioning eyebrow at her. "Nana's always criticizing her, but not everybody's a neat freak like she is." She explained.

Opie nodded knowingly as he noted the current condition of the living room, currently littered with his kids' shit, books, games and dirty clothes. " _Nobody's_ a neat freak like Grandma Helen." Opie opined.

"Except maybe Aunt Jo." Kenny chimed in.

"Nah, I think Aunt Jo's got her beat." Ellie said mostly under her breath, quickly covering her mouth as Opie and Kenny chuckled.

"I think you're right," Opie grinned. "But maybe if Grand Mary had some help around here—" He laughed as his children's sheepishly avoided making eye contact.

"Hey, you're just as bad, Dad. At least we never left greasy bike parts on the table on top of Mom's good tablecloth." Kenny chastised good-naturedly.

"Or stinky boxers on the kitchen counter." Ellie added.

"How'd they end up in the kitchen, anyway?" Kenny quirked his head at his Dad. "The bathroom with the hamper _and_ the laundry room are on the _other_ side of the house."

Remembering the last time he and Donna had enjoyed some quick and dirty loving in the kitchen, only to lose track of time and almost getting busted by their pre-teen twins, Opie guiltily ignored the question. "Yeah, she'd get tweaked whenever I left my shit lying around." Opie's smile was bittersweet, remembering how Donna would nag him constantly, only shutting up when he'd jump on her ass and fuck her brainless.

Shaking himself from the fog of not-so-wholesome, but wonderful memories, Opie realized that, for the first time in months, he could think about his old lady without his heart hurting. "Well, I'm back now, so I'll deal with Grandma Helen." He announced determinedly, while wincing inwardly. He certainly wasn't looking forward to that. "Like I said, she's hurting, too. It's gonna take a minute for all of us to go on without Mom, but you know she would want us to. She'd want for us to be happy again."

As Ellie leaned into her father, resting her head in his chest in an attempt to hide her tears for her mother, Kenny looked up at Opie with soulful and wise blue eyes. "But it won't ever be the same, will it, Dad?" His young son asked wistfully.

"No, it won't." Opie replied honestly. "It can never be the same again, but even though it may not happen overnight, I know one day we will be whole again."

Wiping away her tears, Ellie looked up at Opie. "But only if we do it as a family, right, Daddy?" She was seeking confirmation, a promise that he would never abandon them again and it shattered Opie's heart into a million pieces.

"Absolutely." Opie promised as he pulled his children into an embrace. "We _will_ do it as a family."

* * *

Jax guided his bike down the picturesque streets of Charming on his way to Buckhead, the neighborhood in which the Winston family resided.

Having received a call from Mary Winston the night before telling him that at long last Opie was back home where he belonged had nearly moved him to tears. It had been almost three months since Opie had pulled out of Charming and had gone walkabout. Jax had hoped that a few weeks on the road would help Ope find a measure of peace. As the weeks turned into months, Jax grew steadily convinced that there was no comeback for his oldest and closet friend, that he was too lost and in too much pain for that to happen. Without ever saying it out loud to anyone, including himself, Jax feared that the only way his brother would return to Charming was in a pine box.

With everyone on edge regarding Opie's well-being, upon hearing of his return, Jax had to physically restrain Jolene from storming over to Ope's house. It didn't win him any points with his heartbroken old lady, but Jax put his foot down. What Opie needed right now was to spend his first night at home reconnecting with his kids. Smart and level-headed, but emotional to a fault, Jolene finally realized that Jax was right. Breaking down, she admitted that she needed to see with her own eyes that he was alright, but knowing how important that reconnection was, reluctantly agreed to stay put.

Having waited until it was mid-morning, Jax had pulled out of the T-M lot and headed over to the Winston home. He hoped that Ellie and Kenny had gone to school, in spite of the unexpected return of their father, so that he could have some private time to speak with Opie.

Pulling up to the house, Jax grinned as he saw Opie's bike sitting where it belonged, in its customary place in the driveway. The garage door was open and as Jax pulled to a stop, he saw his brother walk out to greet him.

Jax could barely contain his face-splitting grin, but it was hard to overlook just how bad he looked. Getting off his bike and placing his helmet on the handlebars, Jax swaggered over to his VP. Opie's once-powerful and bulky frame was almost unrecognizable, his features gaunt and, even with all of the time he'd spent on the road, his complexion was ghostly pale. His hair and beard—both long and shaggy—looked dull and lifeless.

Walking into their standard bro-hug, both men embraced each other fiercely. Years of brotherhood and friendship quickly closed the gap that Opie's absence had created between them. As they held each other a bit longer than usual, the shared emotional pain of their recent loss was so very obvious to anyone watching.

Jax, the first one to pull away, clapped Opie soundly on the shoulder. "It is so good to see you, bro."

"Yeah, it's good seeing you, too." Opie replied gruffly.

"How are you doing? How was the walkabout?"

Opie shrugged his shoulders. "I'm doing okay." He replied noncommittally.

 _Shit, bro. You don't sound or look 'okay'_ , Jax thought, giving him the eye _._

For the first time since they were kids, Jax actually felt himself grasping for words in order to make conversation with Opie. It was as if there were suddenly a huge elephant present that no one wanted to address. Looking off to the side, Jax wrinkled his brow as he noted what looked like a broke down bike sitting just inside of the garage.

"Hey, what's this?" Jax walked over and bent down to take a closer look and then raised his eyes to Opie, who was leaning against the garage door. "A Panhead EG. '63?"

Opie shook his head. "Nah. '65."

"Damn, but its beat to shit. Where'd you find it?"

"Ran into some guy in Yukon. We started bullshitting and he turned me onto this used parts guy, who had found it just rotting in some garage. It's all there. All the parts. It was delivered this morning after the kids left for school, so Kenny hasn't seen it yet."

"He's gonna shit his pants, bro. Hasn't he been begging you to teach him how to rebuild a bike? This should keep the two of you busy for a long while." Jax commented, still looking over the rusted out Harley.

Opie sighed as he ran his hand through his greasy hair. "That's the plan. You and Abel seem to be having a blast fixing up that old Sportster Jolene used to yank your ass in. I figured if Kenny wants to learn about bikes, what better way to start than with a Panhead, right? I'm gonna let him think the plan is to sell it when we're done, but I was actually thinking it might be a good bike for him when he's older."

Jax smiled. "Young Harry will go out of his fuckin' head when you give it to him. I've been doing my best to prolong the rebuild of the Sportster 'cause I'm gonna have a hell of a time keeping Abel off it when it's done. If he has his way, he'll be riding before he hits puberty."

"Hey, that might be a good thing. It's easier to keep his ass on a bike than off a girl. I figure Kenny will prolly go girl-crazy any day now. We've already had 'the talk' even though Donna drew the line at me buying him condoms, saying it was way too early for that shit. That it'll just encourage him to start messing around."

"Women don't get it, bro. Condoms won't convince him to do anything his dick hasn't already talked him into." He said, causing Opie to chuckle. "Don't tell Jo I said that, though. She's been stressing that shit since some little girl called the house about two weeks ago. I told her she can worry about that shit later 'cause Abel's only eight."

"Yeah, if he's anything like his old man, Jo can wait to start stressing when he's twelve." Opie deadpanned, calling to mind the 16 year old babysitter Jax popped his cherry on when he was in the seventh grade. The two patches looked at each other and suddenly burst out laughing.

As they continued to talk about the places Opie had seen on his travels, the bikes they were fixing up for their sons and their other children, the reserved and strained atmosphere shrouding them seemed to fall away. For a brief time, they were back to being just Opie and Jax, two friends who loved each other like brothers. Jax realized just how deeply he had missed Ope and said so.

"I really missed you, bro."

"Yeah, me too. How's everybody else doing?"

"We're whole. Jolene is pissed as shit at you for leaving, though."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised." Opie pulled out a pack of smokes, taking one and offering one to Jax before lighting them both up.

Jax blew out a long trail of smoke. "You're gonna to have to fix that with her, man."

Opie sighed as he thought about the former tomboy he couldn't love more if she were his flesh-and-blood sister. "It's not gonna be pretty, is it?"

"Nah, bro. You need to prepare yourself for a pair of size eight heels making imprints all over your ass in the very near future." Jax advised. "I can only hold her back for so long before she starts pouncing on my ass."

"Still punches like a dude, huh?" Opie smiled.

"A very tiny and girly dude, but like a dude, yes." Jax nodded emphatically. Besides, Jax didn't like going to bed without some pussy and reining her ass in last night had cost him some lovin'.

"And what about the Club? How's business?" Opie asked, flicking ash from his cigarette.

"We've had a couple of setbacks. Nothing too serious yet, but we can fill you in on everything tomorrow night at Church." Jax replied, and then frowned as he saw Opie wince. "What's up, bro?"

"Is Tig still at the table?" He growled.

 _And the elephant finally roars_ , Jax sighed.

He knew that it would eventually come down to this, so he compartmentalized his emotions, shutting away Jax, Opie's best friend, and allowed Jax Teller, the SAMCRO President, to speak. "Yeah, he is, Ope. That's where my SAA is _supposed_ to be. Right along with my _VP_."

"I don't know, brother." Opie shook his head. "I don't know if I'm ready to do this. Big O said that at the table was where I need to be but—"

"You saw Otto?" Jax asked amazed.

"Yeah." Opie looked directly into Jax's eyes. "You're my brother, Jax, and I love you, but Otto is the only one who can possibly understand what I'm going through losing Donna. He really helped me sort out the noise in my head."

 _And I am so fuckin' grateful to hear that_ , Jax thought.

Even though it hurt a little to acknowledge that, in spite of their closeness, he probably wasn't the right one to help his friend through this crisis, Jax was just glad that Ope had finally been able to reach out to someone. Jax smiled to himself, realizing that Big Otto was two-for-two when it came to convincing loved ones to return to the fold. He still owed Otto a debt of gratitude for talking Jolene into returning to Charming after Luann died. Because of him, Jax had his old lady and kids he never thought he would have, and now he had his best friend back as well.

"Hey, if talking to Big Otto got you to come back home to your kids, then I'm glad you sought him out 'cause he's right, Ope. Charming and SAMCRO is where you belong. I'm not saying that sitting at the table with Tig again is going to be easy, but you're not alone and if anyone could do it, it would be you, bro. You're fair and straightforward and the truth is if you're gonna continue to resent Tig, you're gonna have to spread some of that blame on me, too."

"You? Why the fuck?" Opie asked genuinely astonished.

"Yeah, me, for not taking Salazar and his little piece of shit patch or his club seriously. I can't hide from the fact that maybe if I had done things differently, brokered some kind of peace deal after what went down on the I-22, things would have been different. But we'll never know that, and it hurts me." Jax said, the pain clearly evident in his voice. "Your old lady did something for me and my family that I can never repay. No amount of bloodshed is gonna bring Donna back, but I promise you that we will find the asshole that's truly responsible and we will make him pay. But for that to happen, I need you at the table, Ope. We both need to finish this together."

Opie swallowed back the lump in his throat and willed his tears to stop welling up in his eyes. "I killed Edgar Mendoza, the piece of shit that ran her down like an animal, and I still feel this, this murderous rage in my heart, Jax. What if it doesn't go away by killing Salazar? What then? Do I get to kill Tig then?"

Jax looked into Opie's liquid blue eyes. "Nothing else has taken the pain away, Ope. You really think killing a brother will? If so, why stop at Tig? How about me?"

Opie shook his head angrily. "It's not the same, Jax."

Taking one last drag from his cigarette, Jax flicked it out into the street. "Listen, why don't we just agree to cross that bridge when we get to it?" Jax eyed him resolutely. "Baby steps, bro. Right now, I just want my VP at the table, so will you be at Church tomorrow?"

Looking at Jax for a long time, Opie finally nodded. "I'll be there."

* * *

The atmosphere inside the Clubhouse was thick with tension and a little nerve-racking. At least that's how it felt to Tiki Munson, who chose instead to sit at the picnic table outside with Juice, Half-Sack, and Filthy Phil. It was getting close to dusk on a cool Friday evening and Tiki was enjoying a smoke and a beer before he had to go inside and assume the bitch role that a Prospect was expected to play during after-Church parties.

Six months into his prospect year and Tiki was pretty much accustomed to the ritual hazing he suffered on a daily basis. His old man Bobby Elvis had prepared him well, advising him to always remember that it got a hell of a lot worse right before it got a hell of a lot better. It was a patch's job to make sure a Prospect had what it took in order to earn his club colors. The harder a member worked you, hazed you, and just generally kicked your ass around meant that they saw something in you that had potential. There were plenty of Prospects roaming the lot who went virtually ignored, even by their own sponsors. Chances were, those were the Prospects that would never patch in.

He did find, however, that of all the members who gave him shit, the patches currently seated at the picnic table with him were definitely the lesser of several evils. Still pretty tough when it came to the hazing, they were at least a slight bit more sympathetic considering they were fairly new themselves and still remembered how much it sucked ass being a Prospect. Even though Tiki couldn't ask for a better sponsor than Tig, the SAA was still prone to slapping him upside the head when he asked too many questions. Tiki quickly learned how to read his sponsor and saved certain questions he knew he had no business asking for the men he considered his friends. Juice in particular had a soft spot for Bobby's kid, even though Tiki seemed to snag more pussy than he, Half-Sack, and Filthy Phil combined.

"Do you think Opie's really gonna come tonight?" Tiki eyed Juice.

The Intelligence Officer took a hit off a joint and passed it to Half-Sack. "If Jax says he's coming, Opie will be here. I just don't know how shit's gonna land once we get around the table."

"The last time he was in the same room as Tig it wasn't pretty." Half-Sack reminded them. "If the walkabout didn't do Opie any good, I can't see things being any different than the last time around."

 _Shit, I hope not_ , Tiki thought grimly.

After Opie had beat down Tig, who had refused to fight back, Tiki had been tasked with helping Chibs get Tig back to his dorm and help clean him up. Tig had been silent, not saying a word as Chibs cleaned the bruises and lacerations on his face caused by Opie's rings without comment, finishing the task by taping up Tig's broken ribs.

After that, Tig had pretty much existed on a weed and booze diet. Some days, in spite of being heavily under the influence, he appeared almost as sober as a judge. Other times, however, if the SAA could string a coherent thought together it was considered a good day. Without being told to, Tiki had taken to watching out for Tig, sometimes cleaning him up when he passed out in his own vomit or making sure he put him to bed in his dorm in order to keep him from trying to ride home. Usually, those really bad days were preceded by Tig re-living the events of Bloody Saturday, his self-hatred consuming him like a fire from within because he had failed in his attempt to save Donna Winston.

Although never saying it out loud, Tiki believed that Opie had been unfair in blaming his sponsor for his old lady's death. The events of that day had spiraled out of control quickly and in spite of his own life being at risk, Tig had done his best and had even protected Ellie Winston during the initial assault. Until Opie acknowledged that as fact, Tiki believed Tig would continue to wallow in his guilt, the alcohol only succeeding in making his depression worse.

Fortunately, SAMCRO's former President had finally managed to get through to the SAA and slowly but surely Tig was starting to make his way back. He was still getting drunk, but not so bad that he couldn't navigate under his own steam. He had been working hard with Jax and Juice in gathering Intel and tracking down any leads that might bring them that much closer to nabbing Hector Salazar. After slowly climbing out of his black hole, now Tig would have to face Opie at the table and Tiki could only hope that they would be able to resolve their issues or Tig was sure to suffer a setback.

Despite all of the drama over the last three months, Tiki knew that Tig Trager was a strong member of the MC and he couldn't have asked for a better sponsor. Tiki was really looking forward to patching in with SAMCRO and would hate if Tig decided to transfer to another charter because of this problem with Opie.

Because if he did, Tiki knew that he would go with him.

Suddenly, the four men at the picnic table looked up as they heard the roar of a bike pulling into the lot. "Shit, it's Opie." Juice jumped up, whistled loud and sharp to alert the rest of his brothers as he walked over to Opie who had just parked his bike.

"Bro," Juice called out and, with arms open, practically ran and wrapped his brother in a fierce hug, which Opie returned. "It's good to have you back."

"Hey," Opie managed gruffly. "Shit, did you bulk up or something while I was gone?"

Juice grinned and flexed his biceps. "I've managed to find a little time to hit the gym, but I think it's more like you've slimmed down a little bit. Maybe too much. Your Mom is gonna have to beef you up again."

"Opie, my lad!" Chibs voice boomed out as he went to hug Opie, with Happy, Jax, Bobby, and the rest of the brothers in his wake.

Opie accepted all of their hugs, questions and good-natured ribbing as the group headed into the Clubhouse.

Clay Morrow was waiting at the bar, a line of shots already set up. Standing up to greet Opie, he wrapped his bear arms around the younger man. "It's good to have you home, son."

"It's good to be here."

Handing everyone a shot, Clay raised his glass. "To Opie." Everyone downed their shots, slamming their empty shot glasses on the bar.

Jax reached over to slap his brother on the back. "Time to get Church started, bro."

Tossing their cell phones into the open cigar box sitting on top of the bar, everyone headed into the Chapel and took their respective seats. Surprising no one, Tig was the last one to enter and take his place at the table.

For a brief moment, Opie's eyes met Tig's. The room was suddenly silent, but Opie refused to acknowledge his brother.

Not sure what to say, Jax simply slammed the gavel down to start the meeting.

"Before we start, I want to take this opportunity to welcome Opie back home, back to his family." Cries of "Hear, hear" were echoed around the Chapel as fists were banged on the Redwood table. "I know that everyone is really glad that he's here back with us." Jax swiveled in his chair to face his VP. "I sorta mentioned yesterday that a couple of changes are coming to Charming that have the potential to shake up SAMCRO. First, Jacob Hale was successful in using his influence over City Council and other movers and shakers in Charming to get Charming PD disbanded."

"Shit," Opie said brusquely. "The fucker used what happened to Donna to kill the department, didn't he?"

"That sums it up in a nutshell, brutha." Chibs replied. "The Sanwa Sheriffs are now the law in our fair town and all the cops we had on our payroll have been absorbed and spread out all over the county. We no longer have access to them, or their Intel."

"We're pretty much operating blind," Juice chimed in. "The only cops still on the SAMCRO payroll are Vic Trammel and Candy Eglee. Trammel plans on laying low until he gauges how this change will affect him. With the Sheriffs spread out all over Charming, he can't do much for us without the possibility of being spotted in our company."

"Which definitely is not good for business," Filthy Phil replied. "It gets out that he's in SAMCRO's pocket, he'll lose his badge or get transferred. Either way, he won't be any help to us at all."

"And Eglee has been assigned to work with Lodi PD. She's been trying to help us with Intel on the CL and keeping us up-to-date on the current investigation, but her access is somewhat restricted. She was assigned to work in the burglary and vandalism division, so gang violence is not in her purview." Half-Sack said.

"Shit." Opie growled.

"Our second problem is the Sheriff's command substation in town totaling sixty cops and headed up by a pig straight out of Oakland named Eli Roosevelt." Jax continued.

"Why Oakland?" Opie queried.

"Apparently, he's some big deal, hot-shit cop up there. Specialized in gangs and set up some task force to neutralize them. He had some success in working with a lot of the black gangs in Oak-Town. We reached out to Laroy who confirmed knowing about him. He also confirmed that Roosevelt had been a big failure in making any headway with the Niners, which explains why he was tapped to patrol the backwoods of Sanwa County. Either way, Laroy assures us that he's a serious player and someone we need to keep at arm's distance." Juice explained.

"How is all this affecting business?" Ope asked.

"We've had to tweak our M.O., be more careful. After the City Council vote, the good Sheriff Roosevelt and his motley crew made it a point of stopping by to introduce themselves. He made it clear that his intention was to keep the criminal element in town in its rightful place." Bobby replied.

"If he's so fuckin' concerned about the criminal element in Sanwa County, what the fuck is he doing to find Salazar?"

"Not much." Jax winced as he saw the hard look in his brother's eye. "I don't think it means they've swept it under the rug. It's more likely that the trail is getting cold."

"But tha' doesna' mean unsolvable, brutha." Chibs chimed in, seeing the banked anger in Opie's face. "It jus means we are gunna have to work a lil' harder to get the Intel on that piece o' shyte."

"And we will, Ope. We won't rest otherwise." Jax assured him. "We do have at least one piece of good news."

"What's that?" Opie couldn't help but ask skeptically.

"Marcus Alvarez is a man of his word. He used his reach in County to take care of our cockroach problem in lock-up." Jax responded, cocking his head towards Bobby.

"Yeah, apparently there was a mass suicide of Calaveras. Seems that the four CL held in custody cut their dicks off and bled to death in the showers." Bobby quipped as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Or it could've been some weird prison sex thing gone awry." Clay interjected.

As his brothers laughed around the table, Opie smiled grimly. "So, Salazar and his bitch are the only ones for us to find?"

"Yeah, but we need to be smart about it, Ope." Jax replied. "Roosevelt knows we want payback and has been keeping an eye on us. When we do find Salazar, we are gonna have to find a way to do our shit under the radar so that you can settle the score with that POS and not have it blow back on you or the Club."

With everyone at the table nodding their agreement, Jax continued. "Before we end, I've been told to pass along a message and I will start by saying that this is all on my old lady, who has put her foot down."

"Ah, shyte, brutha. What have we gone and done now that's got lil' luvvie all twisted?" Chibs snarked as the patches around the table laughed.

"She's insisting that the official welcome home party for Sasquatch here," Jax nodded to the man on his left. "Be a family-oriented event and attendance is mandatory. Everybody will have their asses in this Clubhouse on Sunday for dinner. No croweaters or hang-arounds allowed." He explained as most of his brothers protested rather loudly. "That being said, Ope, you need to get your ass whupping out of the way ASAP or she will do it right here on Sunday."

"Ah shit, Jax—" Opie started.

"Sorry," Jax shrugged. "It's out of my hands. You're gonna have to suck it up and get it over with. That is, unless you're scared of 115 pounds of ape shit crazy?"

"Fuck yeah, dude. It's your old lady we're talking about. Ape shit crazy doesn't begin to describe her. I'm deathly afraid."

"You ought to be." Clay joked. "She's been terrorizing my ass for years."

"Kit's mellowed out with age, though, hasn't she?" Bobby defended his goddaughter.

"Yeah, right." Jax snarked, before slamming the gavel.

Considering that it was his VP's first Church back at the table with his SAA and both of them were alive at the meeting's end, Jax felt that it had gone reasonably well.

He should have known that it wasn't going to be that easy.

As everyone headed out of the Chapel to get the Friday night festivities started, Jax rose to follow them.

"Wait, Jax." Opie called out. "You too."

 _Oh shit_ , Jax groaned inwardly.

Sitting back in his seat, Jax saw that Tig had paused at the Chapel's entrance. Stone-faced, he closed the door and returned to his seat.

For a long time nothing was said as the three men stared at one another. Then Opie spoke.

"SAMCRO is my family. It's my home. It's the only one that I've ever had and it's practically the only one I have left. But I don't know if I can stay here with you at the table."

Tig looked him in the eye. "I can accept that."

"I didn't ask you to speak." Opie growled. After a deafening silence, Opie continued. "My family and I have gone through enough. I don't want to go through this shit anymore because I can't live like this, but I still need some time to get my shit straight. I left here thinking that I could do that on the road, but I was wrong. I need my family to make things whole for me and my kids, but I can't deal with all this fuckin' angst with you sitting across from me, so I'm tabling it. For now."

Jax looked at the hardened face of his best friend. "What exactly does that mean, Ope?"

"It means that I don't want to have shit to do with him." Opie declared. "I know you need him, the Club needs him, but I don't want to have anything to do with him. Not right now." Directing his next words to Tig, Opie continued forcefully. "You need to stay the fuck away from me and my family until further notice. Period."

Tig looked at his angry brother and his heart literally ached in his chest.

Tig had his good days and bad days. Over the last month, things had seemed to be getting a little better ever since he had a talk with Clay. It had really helped him to focus on what he could do for the Club in trying to track down Salazar. It had kept his mind off of his own troubles, but with Opie back at the table, all the feelings of anger and self-recrimination came rushing back. But he had to do what he could to give his brother a measure of peace in the hopes that someday there could be peace between them.

"Agreed."

"Then we're done." At that point, Opie shoved his chair away from the table and headed to the Chapel doors. Throwing them open, he roared, "Somebody get me a damn drink!"

Jax got up to watch with growing astonishment as Emily Duncan, one of the Club's more popular croweaters, literally leapt to his brother's side with a bottle of Jack in one hand and a shot glass in the other. Swallowing the proffered shot in one gulp, Opie wrapped an arm around the woman's waist and dragged her off to sit on his lap on one of the couches.

Looking at Tig, who had joined him in the doorway, Jax shook his head. "Hang in there, Tigger. It may not seem like it, but we're making progress."

"Yeah. Progress." Tig said bitterly. If progress meant having his brother pretend he didn't exist, somehow, Tig would have preferred getting the shit kicked out of him instead.


	9. We Put the Fun in DysFUNctional

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jolene was biting the inside of her cheek in a desperate attempt to remain civil. Looking long and lean in a pair of tight dark wash jeans, mile-high black suede wedge booties, and an off-the-shoulder blouse that cinched at the waist, she was watching a young woman clumsily fumble around one of her beautifully set buffet tables. Growling softly to herself, Jolene finally lost the internal struggle with her Type-A tendencies.

"No! That's not where it goes!" Jolene blurted, probably a littler harsher than she had intended. Like a deer caught in the headlights, the relatively-new old lady froze in her silver-studded biker boots. With her hands up in front of her as if Jolene was holding her at gun point, she was at a loss regarding what she had done wrong and how to fix it. Exasperated, Jolene huffed out loud and practically rolled her eyes. "That potato salad goes on the table with the other cold foods, _not_ on the hot food table." She gave the clearly intimidated young woman the stink eye, causing her to stumble in her haste to remove the offending food.

Watching her practically run to the other buffet table with the dish, Jolene grumbled under her breath. "And if she had a smidge of brain matter in that empty space between her two big ears, she could have figured that out on her own."

"Now, now," Gemma grinned as she approached the Queen of Charming. "Don't be mean."

Jolene turned her head to shoot a raised eyebrow at her mother-in-law. "Me? Mean? Are we getting soft in our old age?" She grinned inwardly as she saw Gemma's eyes narrow. "You know as well as I do that back in the day that heifer would have been wearing that potato salad as a sombrero just for being so damn clueless. I thought I was being pretty nice, all things considered."

Carrying a stack of paper goods over to the small table holding the rest of the dinnerware, Jolene fussed over the placement of the napkins, cups and plastic utensils. "You know, if Donna were here, I wouldn't need any of these useless old ladies helping me. That woman could organize the shit out of anything." She sighed.

Gemma wrapped her arms around Jolene from behind and squeezed. "I know, baby girl. I know."

Squeezing the older woman back, Jolene pulled out of her embrace. "Sorry. Let's not go there today, right? This is Ope's welcome home party and we need to make sure that he and the kids have a great time." Jolene took a look at her dainty wrist watch. "And where the hell is Neeta?"

"Right here, so stop bad mouthing me behind my back." Both women turned to see her pushing a shopping cart loaded with large aluminum pans, followed by a Prospect carefully carrying a large sheet cake. "I'm old, fat and tired, which gives me the right to take my time getting anywhere. Now c'mon and help me get this food set up."

Banning further interference in the form of "help" from the inexperienced old ladies, the three women worked together to quickly finish setting up as more patches and their families continued to make their way into the Clubhouse. Someone had put on some music and a number of children were already running wild and loose.

Jolene allowed her gaze to skim over the almost maxed-to-capacity Clubhouse looking for one patch in particular. She had been keeping an eye out for him ever since she arrived at the lot over four hours ago. Her heart sunk a little in her chest as she realized that if he wasn't in the Clubhouse by now, he probably had no intention of showing up at all.

Turning to Gemma, she put a hand on her hip. "Tig isn't here." She stated resolutely.

"I haven't seen him." The Queen Mother replied as she lit a cigarette. "And I get the feeling that you're not gonna see him either."

"Damn it!" Jolene was visibly upset. "I knew this was going to happen."

After the first Church session with his VP at the table, Jax had come home to share Opie's edict concerning Tig and his refusal to have anything to do with him. Knowing how deeply affected he had been by his perceived role in Donna's passing, Jolene had sensed that Tig's agreement to stay out of Ope's way would prompt him to skip the family dinner.

"I understand how Opie feels, Gem," Jolene said, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. "But this is Tig's family, too."

"Hey, your preaching to the choir," Gemma advised. "But at this point, I'm not sure there's anything that can be done, except wait it out."

Jolene pursed her lips. "Humph! We'll see about that. I won't allow my family to be broken forever and SAMCRO is family and we don't run away from our shit. You've taught me that much."

Gemma grinned as Jolene stalked away to oversee food prep in the kitchen.

_Yes, indeed. I believe I have taught you well after all._

* * *

As Jolene picked up the cooled pan of Bobby's freshly-baked cornbread from the bar, she felt a small body slam into the back of her legs almost knocking her over.

"What the fuck?!" She yelped, barely keeping the pan from flying out of her hands.

"That's five dollars, Mommy."

Jolene looked down to see an impishly smiling Maddy wrapped around her legs. Mobi Harlan, Lowell's four-year old son and Maddy's sidekick, was standing alongside her, grinning up at Jolene. "Does that mean I get five dollars too 'cause you said the 'F' word, Aunt Jo?"

Maddy quickly answered for her mother. "Yeah, you do. Youse my best friend and whatever I gets, you gets too, right, Mommy?"

"Not when you do sh—stuff that makes me drop the F-bomb, honey. You nearly knocked me over." Seeing her middle child's nostrils flare and her brow furrow in frustration just like her father whenever he was denied a lil' sumtin'-sumtin', Jolene did her best to hide a smile. "Okay, Jax Jr., why are you running around with all these people in here when I told you earlier to cut it out?"

"Who said I was runnin', huh?" Maddy snarked with her hand on her little hip. "If you didn't see me, I didn't do it."

Jolene practically dropped the cornbread on the table and fully turned to face her daughter. "You wanna repeat that, little girl?" She towered over Maddy, her green eyes flashing.

"Uh-oh." Mobi said, having the good sense to back away.

As Maddy was about to snarkily repeat herself, Gemma, popping out of nowhere, interceded. "I wouldn't if I were you, sweetheart. Apologize to Mommy."

Kicking at invisible rocks on the Clubhouse floor, Maddy looked up at her mother with eyes sweet enough to melt her outlaw biker father's heart. Unfortunately, Jolene wasn't Jax and continued to stare down her daughter.

"I'm sorry, Mommy." Maddy said in a tiny voice.

"Good, now go visit your Papa and keep him busy before you get into any more trouble." Gemma grinned.

Jolene shook her head in disbelief as her little girl, with Mobi trailing behind her, took off at a dead run towards Clay, who was sitting on one of the couches, his grandson sleeping in the stroller next to him. "You believe that shit? She's three. Imagine when she's a teenager." Jolene was incredulous. "I love all of my babies, Gemma, but sometimes I think you were right. Women who have mother issues should be allowed to drown baby girls at birth."

"Ha! You better not let your old man hear you say that." Neeta retorted as she put down a pan of biscuits on the bread table.

"Or your father either." Gemma added. "Forget you and all the drama between Jax and Clay when _you_ were a teenager. Sometimes I think those two are at war for the sole affections of that little girl."

"Yeah, and she knows it too." Jolene smirked.

* * *

Pulling into the lot, Opie squeezed the family-size SUV into a space at the far end of the lot after dropping his mother off at the entrance to the Clubhouse. Getting out of the car, he slammed the door behind him, his kids following suit.

"Wait, Daddy. Your collar doesn't look right. You don't want to go into the Clubhouse looking all messed up." Ellie said with concern.

Opie obediently got down on one knee to allow his daughter to re-adjust his kutte and button down shirt underneath. "Now you look good. I'm glad I made you go to Floyd's."

Opie grinned as he tugged at Ellie's ponytail. "I didn't look _that_ bad."

"Uh, yeah Dad. You did." Kenny chimed in. "Not that that shit's important to me, but you don't want Aunt Jolene seeing you look like a crazed mountain man. You actually did _look_ like a Sasquatch before Floyd cleaned you up."

"Yeah, Mom hated it when you let yourself get too scruffy-looking," Ellie said with a small catch in her voice. "And since she's not here, I have to look out after you."

Opie wrapped an arm around Ellie's shoulder and kissed her on the top of her head. "And you're doing a damn fine job."

_But she shouldn't have to and I can't keep letting her. It's my job to take care of her, not the other way around._

"C'mon, I guess we better go deal with the SAMCRO Queen before I lose my courage." Tousling Kenny's mop of hair, Opie led his family toward the Clubhouse where everyone was waiting to warmly welcome them back into the fold.

* * *

Jolene was standing in the kitchen stirring a large pot of Bobby's famous chili when she heard the steadily growing roar of the crowd in the Main Room as the cheers erupted. Placing the lid back on the pot, she quickly threw the potholder and ladle on the counter and walked into the Main Room.

Standing by the bar, Jolene's eyes got misty as she watched her beloved Sasquatch practically get mauled by his brothers as they welcomed him back with bro-hugs and back-slaps. Through the tears that tracked unnoticed down her cheeks, she frowned as she took in his appearance. Although he was neat and tidy, his beard newly trimmed and his hair gleaming in the lights of the Clubhouse, Jolene noticed that his clothes were hanging loosely from his large frame. His ruggedly handsome face was gaunt and, even though his upper body still had muscular definition, he was thinner than she had ever seen him before.

Swiping at her leaky eyes before her tears ruined her make-up, Jolene sniffed loudly. Feeling a familiar arm wrap around her shoulders pulling her closer into the crook of his body, Jolene looked up into her old man's concerned face. "Babe, remember what we talked about. This is a happy day and you can't be boohooing all over Ope."

"I know," Jolene sniffed. "But he just looks—"

"Like he's been through a war and came out on the other side." Jax finished for her. "But at least he's home and whole, darlin'. It may take him a while to get back to himself physically and emotionally, but don't beat him over the head about it. Okay?"

She nodded, fighting a losing battle with her tears. "Shit, I never have a damn tissue when I need one." Jolene smiled at her old man as she snatched the blue bandana he offered her. "Thank you, baby. You're always looking after me." She blew her nose and tried to hand the bandana back.

"And I always will." He dropped a sweet kiss on her lips. "But as usual, you can keep that mess once you use it."

Jolene cracked up, unable to stop herself from snorting. "Asshole."

"Hey, it looks like there's an opening." Jax gently shoved her towards Opie. "Go welcome your brother home."

Just then Opie's eyes fell on Jolene. Hesitating briefly as he tried to gauge whether her red-rimmed eyes meant she was happy to see him or about to kick him in the balls, Opie opened his arms. Running into his embrace, Jolene wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed as she found herself being lifted off of her feet. Pressing her lips to Opie's roughened cheek, she pulled away to look into his eyes.

He had changed. It was obvious that he was not the same man, but somewhere in that still-devastated face was her Opie Winston.

And Jolene was determined to do what she could to get her brother back and whole.

* * *

Wearing nothing but a damp towel around his waist, Jax walked over to his old lady as she brushed her long hair in front of the large mirror over the his-and-hers double sinks.

"Hey, babe," Jax wrapped his arms around Jolene's waist, pulling her backside into direct contact with his crotch. "I was hoping you would join me in the shower. Water got cold with me waiting for that to happen." He nibbled at her ear, causing her to lose interest in brushing out her hair as she threw her head back against his bare shoulder.

"I'm sorry, baby. TJ woke up the second I put him down." Jolene explained. "It took a warm bath and another feeding to finally knock him out."

"Abel and Maddy?" Jax's lips moved down to her neck and his hands up to her tits.

"Down for the count, too." Jolene replied, her eyes drifting closed. "After all the fun they had running around the lot today, we should get at least eight uninterrupted hours of quiet time."

"Mmmm," Jax growled against her throat. "That almost gives me enough time to do everything I plan on doing to you tonight."

_Not before I get a chance to speak my mind first._

Dropping her hairbrush onto the vanity with a loud clang, Jolene managed to pull herself out of her husband's embrace. Turning to face him, Jolene smiled slightly at the look of frustration on her old man's handsome face. He looked like a little boy who just had his favorite toy confiscated for being naughty.

"How do you think it all went tonight?" Jolene asked, as she leaned against the counter.

Jax quirked an eyebrow at his beautiful old lady, not quite understanding why she would choose now to discuss Opie's welcome home dinner.

"It was great." Jax stepped forward and pulled her into his arms again. The pouty little stink face she was giving him was almost like a challenge. _How long before I can get her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she bites those pillowy lips_? If Jax had a say, not long at all. "Babe, I hope you're not upset. You did an amazing job and everyone had a great time."

Jolene shook her head. "Jackson, I'm not talking about the food and drinks. I can do that shit blindfolded." She eyed him with a dangerous glint in her seafoam green eyes as she once again pulled out of his embrace.

 _Oh, shit. I'm gonna get it and I don't even know why_. _Not to worry, though, 'cause_ _I'm sure Jo has no problem telling me._

And he was right.

"I still think a smaller family dinner for Ope at the house like I had originally planned was the way to go. But I was fine with doing it at the Clubhouse as long as everyone showed up and I could have some one-on-one time with Opie. Instead, Tig didn't show up and Opie avoided being alone with me all night." Jolene crossed her arms causing her terry robe to gape open revealing a large portion of her creamy breasts.

Jax's eyes glinted with purpose as he started to play with his old lady's tits again. "Jo, I think giving Ope a big welcome home was the way to go. It took the pressure off of him being surrounded by so many people. Besides, he needs a minute to get himself settled into life at home again before you rip him a new asshole."

But Jolene wasn't having it. Brushing his hands away, she tightly secured her robe.

 _No goodies for you until we hash this shit out_.

"Ope's been away too long. Someone needs to find out where he is mentally and, as much as I love him, he needs somebody ripping him a new one for leaving Kenny and Ellie behind. We need to bring Opie closer to us and not allow him to isolate himself again."

Jax nearly rolled his eyes. "Jo, he was the center of attention today, surrounded by a Clubhouse full of people who love him. How is that isolating himself?"

"He's isolating himself from _me_ , Jax. Every time I approached he ducked and dodged me like he owed me child support." Jolene retorted.

Jax sighed and suddenly anchored his old lady in his arms. "If he's avoiding you then maybe you should take the hint and give him the space he needs."

Jolene's eyes widened. "But—" She started.

"No buts, Jo. I mean it. Ope's a grown man whose life has taken an unexpected turn. It's okay for him to be a little fucked in the head right now. We can be there for him, but we can't fix this for him, especially if he doesn't want us to."

"Jax, he doesn't know what he wants. He's so busy trying to compartmentalize his feelings that he can't see the forest for the fuckin' trees."

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter, babe. What matters is that as your old man I'm telling you to drop it and leave him be." Jax said strongly, tempering his demand by adding, "For now."

Rolling her eyes, Jolene met her old man's implacable gaze. "Fine," She huffed. "I'll leave Opie alone. _For now_."

 _I'll lay off Ope, but he didn't say shit about Tig_.

The determined look on her beautiful face warned Jax not to buy into her easy acquiescence, but he was going to let it go for now anyway. He had a more important issue regarding their relationship that needed to be addressed. They both loved Opie and his kids very much, but had recently been butting heads on how to deal with the situation. That, however, was no excuse for putting _his_ pussy on lock down.

"Good. Now, where was I?" Jax quirked an eyebrow in thought. "Oh, yeah," He smiled lecherously as he lifted her into his arms. "I have some serious pipe that needs laying, that's if I even remember how."

Jolene laughed as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "You are so full of shit. It hasn't been _that_ long."

"If I had been on a run maybe, but you haven't let me get my dick wet for the past two days out of spite. And that hurts." Jax fake pouted.

"Spite, huh?" Jolene gave him the stink eye. "You wanna go for three, easy rider?"

Jax laughed smugly. "Not happening, babe. The drought ends tonight." He pressed his mouth hard against hers.

"Mmmm," Jolene heard herself moan as he gently bit and sucked on her lips.

Pulling away slightly, Jolene ran her hand through his damp hair and down the side of his face, smiling at the hazy, feral look in his eyes. Bringing his mouth back to hers by pulling on his chin hairs, she fused her lips to his again as her tongue pressed for entrance to his mouth. Letting her take control, Jolene deepened their kiss as Jax carried her into their bedroom.

Pulling away from her lips, Jax trailed soft kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. With one hand on her ass supporting her weight against him, Jax reached down between them, untucked his bath towel and let it fall to the floor. Jax sat down on the edge of the bed as Jolene straddled him, her knees on either side of his thighs and her hands on his broad shoulders. Holding onto her slender hips, Jax let out a soft groan.

"Like that, baby?" Jolene asked, almost breathless.

Looking up at his old lady, Jax licked his lips and smiled as she rubbed her moist cleft on his erection lying flat against his stomach. Untying her bathrobe, Jax let it fall from her shoulders and answered her with a low growl as his mouth clamped over her nipple. Teasing it with his tongue until it was taut, Jax sent shockwaves through Jolene as he grazed the tight bud with his teeth.

"Fuck!" Jolene moaned as her hands slid down his chest, first feeling the raised skin of his "Abel" tattoo and then the hard muscles rippling underneath with every move he made.

Gripping a fistful of hair at the back of her neck, Jax pulled her towards him, letting her tongue invade his mouth again. "I'm ready, baby." He almost whispered against her swollen lips as he grab her ass and forced her down against his throbbing cock. Jolene whimpered.

Leaning over him, her hair a wavy, dark curtain around them, Jolene reached down and wrapped her hand around the hot, silken flesh of his dick. She was dropping little kisses on his closed eyelids and whispering sweet-nothings as she slowly eased herself onto him, gasping slightly as he filled her. Jax could feel her tighten around him. Shit, _his_ eyes were in danger of rolling to the back of his head from the sheer pleasure of it. Grunting and with his fingers clutching the delicate skin of her round ass, Jax guided her up and down.

"Damn it, Jo!" Jax growled against her throat, causing Jolene to shiver as goosebumps pimpled her skin. Bringing her mouth to his, Jax sucked on her bottom lip. "Your pussy's so tight . . . Shit!" That fact never ceasing to amaze him.

"You like that?" She breathed against his mouth as she pushed him deeper inside her, her blunt fingernails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

"I fuckin' love it, darlin'." Jax was breathing harder as Jolene moved up and down a little faster. "C'mon, baby. Look at me." He gently cradled her head as it lolled back.

"Oh god, Jax." Jolene moaned, a lazy half smile on her face as she forced herself to open her eyes. "You feel so good." Running her hands through his hair, she rested her forehead against his. "Harder . . . please." She begged.

"Yeah? Like this?" Gripping her hips, Jax bucked his, forcing Jolene to cry out.

"Oh god, yes!" Jolene balled her hands in his blonde locks and rode him as he pounded into her mercilessly. "Fuck!" She fell against him as he suddenly stopped, both breathless and trying to catch their breaths.

She had been close. Jax could feel her muscles starting to convulse. The sensation of her walls closing around him, he knew, would send him over the edge as well. Catching her swollen lips in another kiss, Jax started moving again as Jolene ground her hips down onto his. Kissing each other madly, Jax felt the heat building at the base of his spine as Jolene made soft, whimpering noises. With his old lady gently holding his scruffy face in her hands, they lost themselves in each other's eyes as first Jolene came, her cries soft and breathy as she rode the crest of her release, quickly followed by Jax. Slowing down his thrusts, Jax groaned as he felt himself spill into her hot, sticky liquid.

Jax grabbed her face and kissed her as he flipped her onto her back. He could still feel her pulsating around his still-hard dick as he positioned himself above her. Jolene wrapped her arms around him, relishing the rapid thudding of his heart against her chest, knowing that he was just waiting to catch a second wind before he pounced on her again.

 _Finally! My dick is home and happy again. And as soon as he gets a little rest, he'll be ready for Round_ Two, Jax smirked to himself.

_And so will I._

* * *

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Tig emitted a low, guttural groan as the loud pounding on his front door brought him back from unconsciousness. Still in his clothes from Friday, Tig had uncomfortably slept through the weekend on his couch after spending his days drinking before passing out piss drunk every night.

Having decided that he would stay away from the Clubhouse and Opie's welcome home party on Sunday, Tig had planned to spend most of the day watching porn and jerking off, two of his all-time favorite activities. Unfortunately, getting stinking drunk seemed to be the only way he could stand being with himself and had spent the day in a self-pitying drunken stupor instead.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

As the pounding continued, Tig grabbed a leather and suede patchwork throw pillow that was lying on the floor. Using it to cover his head, he was hoping to smother himself or, at the very least, muffle the sound that was sending deep knives into his forehead.

"Argh! Fuuuck! I don't know who that is," He snarled, his voice gravely and raw. "But you need to go away before I beat the shit out of you and then shove it down your throat!"

The banging stopped. Content that he had scared whoever it had been away, Tig let his eyes drift closed again, the pillow still on his face.

Suddenly, Tig sat up ramrod straight as he heard the front door open.

 _What the fuck?! Who would have the balls big enough to just walk into my house uninvited_?

Reaching for his Glock that was sitting on top of the coffee table, Tig quickly jumped to his feet, in spite of his massive, gut-churning hangover, ready to do battle.

"I'll take my chances with the beating, but I'd put the gun down if I were you. Shoot my ass, Tigger, and your Prez will have your head on the Reaper pole by lunchtime."

Tig suddenly relaxed his shoulders and lowered his weapon, sighing in exasperation as Jolene Teller walked into his living room. Putting the safety back on his gun, Tig growled. "Shit, Doll Face! Do you realize how close I came to doing just that?! What the fuck are you doing here and how in the hell did you get in?"

Jolene's booted heels clicked first over the gleaming hardwood floors and then were muted as she walked over the scattered area rugs. Dumping a couple of canvas shopping bags of groceries and a large thermos on the coffee table, Jolene tossed a lock picking kit at Tig. "You're not an outlaw biker's old lady for this long without learning a few tricks. And you _know_ why I'm here." Jolene announced briskly, her hands on her hips. "Like most women, I don't like being stood up."

Tig shoved his gun into the back of his pants and groaned, putting his hands over his ears. "Do you have to be so fuckin' loud?" He complained.

"Yes, I do!" The Queen of Charming took great pleasure in raising her voice, eliciting another groan from her husband's hung over and fucked up SAA. Jolene wrinkled her nose. "Damn, Tigger! When was the last time you shook hands with a bar of soap? You need a shower, maybe two."

"I wasn't expecting company." Tig retorted belligerently. " _Nobody_ comes here without an invite."

"Well, lucky for me then that I'm not 'nobody'." She snarked. "Now get your ass in the shower while I get this food ready."

As Tig gave her his most menacing glare known to send grown men screaming in fear for their lives, Jolene tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "If you've got something to say to me, spit it out. If not, go jump in the shower because I don't have all day. I want to enjoy what's left of the school holiday, so get busy."

Like a petulant child, Tig turned away from Jolene and made his way to his bathroom. In deference to his "guest", he waited until he got there before stripping off his clothes. As the scalding hot water poured over his muscular body, Tig leaned his head against the shower wall.

_Shit, I'm in for it now._

* * *

Sitting at his kitchen table in a clean pair of jeans and a wife-beater, Tig surprisingly discovered that he had something resembling an appetite. The hot shower had gone a long way in reviving him and Doll Face could always be counted on to make coffee the way he liked it—strong and black. That, along with the aspirin she had shoved down his throat, was starting to take effect.

Slamming a bottle of some fruity-looking juice on the table in front of him, Jolene commanded. "Drink."

Picking up the bottle, Tig grimaced. "What the hell is it? I don't do Kool-Aid."

"It's Vitamin Water. The next best thing to Piney's hangover remedy. Chock full of all the vitamins every growing boy needs—especially after tying one on. Now go on and drink it—its fruit punch flavored." Jolene ordered cheekily as she took down a frying pan hanging from its hook on the wall.

Eying his Prez's old lady warily, Tig broke the seal and drank the bottle down.

 _Not bad_ , he thought, already starting to feel somewhat normal.

Nodding her approval, Jolene smiled. "Good. I brought in your paper. Read that while I get this ready." Rolling his eyes, Tig sat back, glad that she wasn't pushing him to talk. Starting to relax, Tig read the paper as the kitchen soon filled with the aroma of delicious breakfast food.

Placing a large plate of scrambled eggs with cheese and tomatoes, a side of sausage, toast, and a large glass of orange juice on the table, Jolene refilled his coffee mug before sitting across from the SAA as he dug into the food.

 _This shit's pretty tasty. Jax really lucked out with his bitch_ , Tig thought as he shoveled the food into his mouth.

Jolene sighed as the man made quick work of the food. _At least Tig knows how to keep his mouth closed while he eats. Too bad he can't learn Uncle Elvis that trick._

Tig scraped up the last bit of eggs and put his fork down. "Clean plate. I guess you liked it. You want some more?" She offered.

"Nah, I'm good, Doll. That really hit the spot. I didn't realize I was so hungry. I don't think I had anything to eat yesterday."

 _Aw, fuck_! As soon as the words left his mouth, Tig knew he had just given her an opening. _I'm screwed_.

" _R_ _eally_? You poor thing. And here I was yesterday with a Clubhouse full of food. Didn't you know because if you did, maybe you should have come over. Oh, wait a minute. You did know. You just chose not to show up, didn't you? What part of 'attendance is mandatory' did you not understand?" Jolene crossed her arms under her impressive breasts, which managed to give Tig a slight lift. He'll take a reaming from a hot bitch any day. "So lay it on me, Tiggy. What's your lame excuse for being the only no-show?"

Tig used one of the pretty napkins his President's old lady had brought to wipe his mouth. "Look, I wasn't in a sociable mood is all, a'ight?"

"No, it's not 'a'ight'." Jolene replied sarcastically. "Sunday dinner is a mandatory family function. Your ass not showing up is unacceptable. Skipping a family dinner is bad enough, but you ditched Ope at his official welcome home party. How do you think that reflects on you, Jax, and your brothers at the table in the eyes of the rest of the charter?"

"Look," Tig sighed. "I appreciate you coming here and all—"

"But you think I should mind my own business?" Jolene finished.

"Yeah. I do."

"Too fuckin' bad, Tig! SAMCRO is my family, making it my business, so me butting out, not gonna happen." Jolene reached over and gave one of Tig's wild curls a good tug.

"Hey!" He yelped.

"Be glad I didn't hit you in the face instead. A little pain is good for the soul, but you shouldn't wallow in it, and that's what you've been doing for the last three months. It's time to put this shit to bed." Jolene demanded angrily.

"And how the fuck do I do that, Doll? How? I killed my brother's old lady!" Tig shoved himself away from the table and stalked towards the living room.

"Asshole, you weren't the one riding the bike that mowed her down! I know because I WAS THERE!" Jolene yelled right back as she ran after him. "And don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you." Jolene grabbed him by the shoulder to pull him around.

Tig grabbed a hold of his hair and pulled at it by the roots. It was do that or pick his Prez's old lady up by the waist and throw her out of his house and he knew Jax would kill him. "How can you even stand to look at me? Donna was your BFF."

"Because I love you, you shithead! And that's what families do. We mess up, we make mistakes, but we find a way to deal with the shit we've done." Jolene reached up to place her hands on both sides of Tig's face. "We keep going despite the hurt.

"I loved Donna. We were more like sisters for almost twenty years. She gave her life to save my children. Do you realize how guilty I feel about that? If I had been with my kids instead of Donna she would be alive and her children would have their mother. But I wasn't there. Donna was and she willingly made that sacrifice and I have to accept it. If Donna were alive now, there's a good chance that Maddy and TJ wouldn't be. It's taken me a while to accept that that wasn't the outcome Donna wanted. Just like you need to accept that you didn't deliberately put this shit in motion. Hector Salazar did and he and his bitch are going to pay for that." Jolene sighed as she brushed away the tears that were quietly rolling down Tig's face.

"You've been through a lot, Tigger. Sitting at the table with Opie is not going to be easy, but you need to have your head on tight. You're my old man's SAA. He needs you, _I need you_ , to protect his back, to protect the Club. It's going to take Opie some time to get his shit together and while I can understand where his anger and pain is coming from, SAMCRO is your family too. I'm done letting you isolate yourself from us when you need your family the most. I won't allow it any more, you understand?"

Tig sighed and nodded. Bending over, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Shit, Doll Face. Gem's trained you pretty good, huh?"

"Maybe," Jolene shrugged her shoulders. "But it was my dad who taught me a long time ago that any man wearing the Reaper was family and that family would always protect me. What happened to Donna wasn't your fault. If you could switch places with her, I know you would, but killing yourself with booze and reckless behavior is not going to bring her back. Killing yourself would just break my heart some more."

Tig laughed as he wiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand. "Ha! Using guilt against me, huh?"

"Whatever it takes to get the job done." Jolene smiled.

"Is it so totally wrong that I wanna bang you six ways from Sunday right about now?" He grinned as Jolene rolled her eyes.

"Uh, yeah, it is, but considering the source, I'll take it as a compliment." She grabbed her handbag from the coffee table. "But hey, if you got an itch you need scratched, I suggest you get your ass back down to the Clubhouse. There's a swarm of croweaters running around like headless chickens at a loss without your dick. I've done enough yelling at ya for one day. I'm going home to spend what's left of the long weekend with Jax and the kids." She took a good look around the living room. "I have to say, this is a pretty nice place you have here. I can't believe I've been in Charming all these years and I never even knew you had a house."

"Hey, Doll, how did you find out?" Tig called to her as she headed for the front door.

"Don't beat him up," Jolene cautioned. "But I nagged Tiki to the brink of death before he fessed up."

Tig groaned. "I'm gonna tar and feather that little shithead."

"Don't you dare, Tigger. The Prospect really cares about you. I guess it probably has a little something to do with the fact that you helped get his behind out of that dive in Lodi in one piece. You were looking out for Uncle Elvis' kid, a part of _our family_. Maybe you need to keep _that_ in mind."

* * *

Opie tossed down yet another shot of Jack. Sitting in what used to be his father's favorite spot at the bar and looking at Piney's grim-faced mug shot on the wall allowed him to feel a little closer to his old man. In spite of the fact that years of hard living and rough riding had taken a toll on his health and his marriage, Piney had never stopped loving the Club. Opie had to admit that even though he too had lost much, being back home and in the Clubhouse among his brothers was giving him a measure of peace.

 _This is where I belong_.

Telling himself that over and over had become his new mantra as Opie busied himself with taking in the collection of mementos of their SOA heritage over the bar and which he had already seen over a million times. If he could continue to think about these things, maybe he could keep his mind off the fact that Tig Trager was at the opposite end of the Clubhouse, shooting a round of pool with Clay.

It had been a week since Opie had returned home and true to his agreement, Tig had managed to stay out of his way, going so far as skipping his welcome home party. Opie had hoped that it would continue just a little bit longer, but Tig had finally returned to the lot earlier in the week, working in the garage and meeting with Jax regarding several Club matters.

Opie knew that as the two officers working closest with Jax, they would eventually have to work together, but the longer he could put off the inevitable, the better. Opie loved the brotherhood and as long as Tig wore the Reaper, he was his brother. He was genuinely looking forward to the day when he could look at the SAA without his fingers itching for his gun. Until that day came, it was best to keep his distance.

His first official after-Church party was jumping, with a few brothers visiting from the Tacoma charter. Bobby, who was still working as bookkeeper at Cara Cara, had made arrangements for a number of the girls to show up and provide extra entertainment.

Unfortunately, most of the croweaters had not read the memo and weren't too happy with the new crop of fresh faces and tight bodies. With the number of choice pussy for the brothers to choose from almost doubling, the entertainment thus far had been several cat fights between the Club women and porn stars. Opie had thought about taking Emily Duncan back to his old dorm, but decided against it after she had thrown a drink at a petite brunette before yanking her off the stripper pole. Instead, Opie found himself contemplating calling it a night and going home to his kids.

That is, until someone sat down at the bar next to him.

"Can I get a shot of Jack, please?"

Opie looked over and then down to see a petite woman next to him. Opie's eyebrows rose as he took her in. It was obvious that she was one of the Cara Cara girls.

 _She looks too cute and wholesome to be a porn star_.

With long wavy blond curls trailing down her shoulders and back, the woman had a beautiful pair of blue eyes in a heart-shaped face. Wearing a simple white halter dress which stopped mid-thigh, she had on a lot more clothes than most of her co-workers present.

As their eyes made contact, the woman took in the huge bearded patch sitting next to her.

_He's kind a cute in a grizzly bear kind of way, but he really needs to lose the beanie._

"Hi."

"Hi there. I don't think I've seen you around before. My name's Lyla."

"You got a last name to go with that?"

The woman grinned as she accepted her shot from the Prospect manning the bar. "It's Dean. You got a name?"

Opie gave her a crooked grin. "It's Opie."

"Got a last name to go with that?" Lyla snarked.

"Yeah. It's Winston."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Opie Winston." She eyed Opie's bemused expression. "Why are you looking like me like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's just, uh, you don't exactly look like—" He trailed off.

"A porn star?"

"Yeah. I mean, not that you're ugly or something. I mean—" Opie tried to repair the damage as the girl laughed. "You're very pretty, but—"

"I look more like the girl-next door?"

"Yeah," Opie sighed. "That's it."

"It's a really big draw. A lot of guys have a thing for the barely-legal girl-next-door-type. It certainly pays the bills." Lyla explained.

"I guess I can see that." Opie motioned to the Prospect for a refill. "You want another?"

"Sure why not?"

"Is this your first time here?"

Lyla shook her head. "No, I've been invited to a few parties before. Been here maybe once or twice, but I don't really party much outside of my work. Some of the girls dragged me here tonight." She gave Opie a flirty little smile. "Now I'm kinda glad they did." Lyla did a quick look over her shoulder. "Hey, it looks like one of the couches just opened up. Why don't you grab a bottle and meet me over there so we can talk a while? Much more comfortable than here on this barstool."

Opie looked down and perused Lyla's body. She had apple-sized breasts, a small tapered waist and a tiny ass. She looked nothing like his beautiful old lady and certainly had nothing in common with Donna.

 _Good_. "Sure, why not?"

Sitting at a table with another croweater, Emily watched as Opie and the Cara Cara It-Girl shared a bottle of Jack and a couple of laughs on the couch.

_Shit, that looks just too damn cozy._

Emily had really enjoyed the one night she had spent with Opie last week and had been hoping for a follow-up tonight. A Club hangaround for the last six years, Emily had made the rounds with every patch at least once, including Jax Teller—before his old lady had come back to Charming. Every patch, except Opie Winston. The man had obviously been devoted to his old lady because, according to the girls from the other charters, he even stayed away from road pussy when on a run. Emily had never been lucky enough to snag herself a man like that and even though she was a good ten years older than the SAMCRO VP, with the passing of his old lady, he was just too good a prospect to lose to some skanky porn star.

Determined not to lose her place in line to some skinny little bitch, Emily was about to strut across the room when one of the patches from the Tacoma charter grabbed her by the hand. Pulling her into his drunken embrace, the bloated Son everyone called Lorca was slobbering on her neck, trying to get her on her knees right there in the Main Room. Knowing she didn't really have the option of saying no, especially to an officer of the Club, Emily quietly managed to coax Lorca to one of the empty dorms.

If she was to have any chance of snaring Opie away from little Miss Porn Star, she couldn't go around acting like one herself.

 _If I want a fair shot at Opie, I'm really gonna have to amp up my game_.


	10. A Little Bit of Comfort

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Opie muttered a curse under his breath as he struggled to make an adjustment to the Corolla's engine. It was pretty much dead on the lot, but that was mainly because Opie had decided to start his work day earlier than usual. Lately, it seemed much easier to work his frustrations out at the garage then it was dealing with the disconnect between him and his children that was at the root of his frustrations.

And he really had no one to blame but himself.

Although Mary and the kids seemed to be glad that he was back home, it was hard to deny that there was an emotional wall between him and Ellie. Opie loved the twins equally, but even he would be the first to admit that Ellie was his baby. Before his walkabout, it was safe to say that Ellie definitely relished her role as daddy's little girl. Since his return, however, it was clear that there was a breach between father and daughter, almost like the young girl was walking on eggshells around him, making it difficult for the two of them to really connect.

Reconnecting with his son had been a little easier. Although Kenny was extremely glad just to have his old man back home, Jax had been right about the young boy losing his mind over the beat up Panhead. His son's genuinely enthusiastic response brought a smile to Opie's face. It had almost felt like Christmas morning when Kenny had laid eyes on the bike for the first time, literally chomping at the bit and eager to get to work on it. Father and son had already made plans to start the rebuild this Saturday afternoon, with Jax and Abel coming over to lend a hand and make a day of it.

But Ellie wasn't a tomboy. She had zero interest in bikes or cars. The young girl loved the same things her mother had, like clothes and shopping and a bunch of other girly shit that Opie had absolutely no clue about whatsoever.

Coming to the realization that the mind of a prepubescent girl was way out of his wheelhouse—even if it was his own daughter—Opie decided that maybe he needed to talk to Jolene and see what she could come up with. His sister-from-another-mister had been a fierce tomboy, but had grown into a girly-girl seemingly overnight.

_Maybe Jo can help me get a handle on Ellie. Only if we can get a handle on our own shit first._

Opie knew that he was still in the shithouse with Jolene for leaving Charming without a word to his kids—or her for that matter. The fact that he had so far avoided taking his lumps from Jo had probably pissed her off as well. He couldn't really blame her, but he knew he wasn't ready to have that particular sit-down just yet. Knowing Jolene, Opie probably had Jax to thank for reining her in, but if he wanted to salvage his relationship with Ellie, he was going to have to make peace with the young Queen of Charming sooner rather than later.

Hearing someone pull into the lot, Opie's experienced ear told him that the car they were driving had a pretty serious flat and that the rim was probably busted all to shit as well. Tossing his tools aside, Opie walked towards the white Prius that had finally hobbled to a stop in the middle of the lot. As the driver's side door opened, Opie's eyes widened in surprise at the blond riotous mop of curls that exited the car.

_Lyla._

He hadn't seen her around the Clubhouse since they first met over a week ago. Opie had been surprised that he had managed to let himself have good time with her. Together they had polished off the bottle of Jack he had scored from the bar as they talked on the couch. By the time they were done, both he and Lyla were just a little passed being piss drunk.

With him unable to ride and Lyla too drunk to drive, Opie had invited her to make use of his dorm. Having shown her to his room, Opie had intended to return to the Main Room in search for a spot to pass out in when Lyla reached for and grabbed his hand. Stronger than such a little thing had the right to be, Lyla had managed to topple his drunk ass on the bed next to her.

"Stay with me." She cooed. Further enticing him by biting her pretty pink lips, Opie had no choice but to comply and they had spent an enjoyable night together. Next morning, he had woken up to a roaring headache and an empty bed. That was the last time he had seen Lyla Dean.

 _Until now_.

"Hey," She greeted him with a smile. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. And you?"

"I have had better days."

Seeing that she wasn't going to revisit what had happened between them the first time they had met, Opie took his cue from her and focused on the problem at hand.

"I can see that." Opie strolled around and eyed her front right tire, wincing at the mangled rim. "Looks like you have a flat." He said tongue-in-cheek.

"Yeah," Lyla shrugged her shoulders as he crossed his arms. "It blew out on me on the I-22."

"And you rode on it like this all the way from the highway?" Opie shook his head slightly.

She nodded. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Opie squatted to get a better look. "The rim's shot, which means the alignment is probably out of whack too."

"Will it take long to fix?" Lyla hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her low-riding jeans.

Opie ran a hand over his beanie. "We don't stock hybrids, so it will take a few hours. I should have it ready for you this afternoon."

"Shit." Lyla groaned. "Can you get me a number for a cab?"

"You going to the studio?" Opie asked.

"Yeah, but I have to get him to school first." Lyla made a small gesture over her shoulder.

"Him?" Opie questioned and then finally noticed the small blond-headed boy sitting in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, that's my son Piper."

_She's got a kid. Huh, well that's a surprise._

"I can get Dog to give you a lift in the tow truck if you don't mind it." Opie offered, still reeling from his discovery that Porn Star It-Girl Lyla Dean had a son about Ellie's age.

"Really? That would be great." She smiled at him, her bright blue eyes sparkling.

Lyla gathered her son and his belongings out of the car as Opie gave a loud whistle to get Dog's attention. Leaning against the hybrid, Opie watched as the mechanic escorted Lyla and her son to the tow truck. Getting into Lyla's car after she had left the lot to park it in one of the empty bays, Opie looked down at the mess of action figures on the floor of the passenger seat of the car.

And at the two small coke vials lying in the midst of the junk.

 _Damn_.

* * *

Gemma sat in the office going through invoices when she heard a knock on the door. Looking up, cigarette dangling out of her mouth, she eyed the pretty young blonde wearing a cropped tank top and tight jeans standing in the doorway.

"Can I help you?" Gemma asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I'm Lyla Dean. I got a call that my car was ready for pick up."

"The white Prius?" Gemma asked and Lyla nodded. "Sure, hon. Just give me a sec." Gemma fiddled through her papers until she found the correct paperwork. "How do you want to settle the bill? Cash, check or charge?"

"Cash."

"Okay. Just sign right here." Gemma pointed to the paperwork and got up to retrieve the keys.

"Thanks very much."

After she paid the bill, Gemma watched as the young woman headed towards her car. She was about to return to her desk when she saw a certain red-headed patch walk over to intercept the blonde by her car.

Gemma's eyes narrowed. "And what the fuck is this?"

Having seen Lyla enter and then leave the office, Opie wasn't sure what he was doing running after the woman, but he suddenly found himself standing by her car.

"I think you'll find that everything's good." He said, causing the woman to jump.

"Shit! For such a big guy you're sure kinda quiet." Lyla whirled around to face him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare the crap out of you." Opie smiled, not knowing why the hell he was smiling.

But Lyla was smiling back. "That's okay. I'm glad you came over."

"You and uh, Piper, make it on time?"

"Yeah, we did and thanks for arranging the lift." Lyla replied. "It's just me and my son, so it's up to me to get shit done. His dad's not in the picture."

"Sorry to hear that. Must be tough being a single mom."

"No tougher than being a single dad."

Opie's eyes shot up at her comment. "You know about—"

"Yeah, I heard about what had happened a few months back, but I had no idea that it was you. I'm very sorry about your loss." Lyla said softly and sincerely.

"Thanks."

A long moment of silence passed between them before someone saw fit to speak again.

"Well, I better get going." Lyla announced. "I have to pick up dinner before grabbing Piper from the sitter's."

Opie nodded and turned to head back to the garage when Lyla called out to him. Stopping, Opie waited for her to walk up to him. "I had a really great time the other night. This might be inappropriate of me, but here." She pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans and, reaching up, tucked it into the pocket of Opie's T-M work shirt. "Maybe, sometime, you might want to give me a call." She was about to turn and head back to her car when she stopped and looked Opie in the eyes.

"You know, sometimes seeking and getting a little comfort helps to keep the pain at bay."

* * *

The moment Opie had walked into his house he knew that a somewhat good day was about to go down the shitter at warp speed.

"You obviously have no clue how to take care of a home! How can I possibly expect you to know how to take care of my grandchildren?!" Helen Lerner said in a scathingly loud voice. "I truly don't know why I was expecting any different from the likes of you. Lord knows you certainly weren't much of a mother to your own son."

"You know what?" Mary Winston charged. "I am sick and tired of trying to rationalize the outrageousness that comes out of your mouth. That's not your grief talking. You're just a mean-spirited, pathetic, and uptight middle-class bitch! And if you don't stop talking crazy to me, you're gonna find out the hard way just what the likes of me are capable of!"

"Grand, Nana, please stop fighting!" Ellie implored, standing between both women.

"Let 'em at it, Elle." Kenny retorted casually from the couch, his sneakered feet on the coffee table. "My money's on Grand Mary."

Seeing Donna's mother bullying his nearly-invalid mother Mary lit a fire in Opie's belly. "What the hell is going on here?" Opie asked angrily, but calmly, as his daughter ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Whirling around, Helen Lerner almost smiled as she set eyes on a new target for her venom in the form of the son-in-law she had last seen at her daughter's funeral.

 _Finally, the bastard has come home_.

Helen's grief had not abated one iota since the death of her daughter. Instead, it had grown exponentially since the day she learned that her son-in-law had left Charming, abandoning her daughter's children, and leaving them in the none-too-capable hands of his mother.

Refusing to adhere to her husband's advice by giving herself time to properly mourn her daughter and reflect on what would have been her wishes, Helen had wasted no time in trying to become the dominate force in the lives of her grandchildren, only to find herself constantly thwarted by Mary Winston. Helen had woefully underestimated the woman. Mary was like a mother bear protecting her cubs, and even though Opie had been home for over a week, Mary had done her best to keep Helen away from the man who had been the leading cause of the death of her daughter.

Now that he was home, Helen was going to have her say. She was going to assert hers and Bob's rights as grandparents and demand access to their grandchildren on a regular basis. Bringing them closer was the only chance her grandchildren had of growing up to become decent people and not dirty bikers.

"Well, if it's not the prodigal son. Finally remembered the two children you'd abandoned?" The petite woman stretched herself to her full height of 5'4 and glared up at her son-in-law. "I'm surprised you even bothered and I'd be lying if I said that I hoped you would."

"You see, Ope?" Mary started. " _This_ is what I've had to put up with. I need you to deal with this woman because I can't, CAN'T any longer."

"Dad, please just make them stop fighting." Ellie whispered up to her father.

"It's okay, baby." Opie dropped a kiss on Ellie's head before beckoning his son over. "Kenny, I want you and your sister to go to the backyard while I have a talk with your grandmothers."

"Are you sure, Dad?" Kenny asked apprehensively.

Opie crossed his arms. "I'm sure."

Kenny heard the quiet and calm voice of his father and gave a sigh of relief. His father was, generally speaking, always pretty calm and rational. It was only on rare occasions that he would completely lose his shit. Realizing that there would be no need to get rid of the bodies of either of his grandmothers, Kenny grabbed his sister by her hand and headed towards the doors leading out to the backyard.

"You need to go home, Helen." Opie said quietly.

"You haven't seen me since the day we put my daughter in the ground and that's all you have to say to me?" Helen asked, the contempt dripping from her icy voice.

"That's right. From what I heard when I came in the front door, you've been running roughshod over my mother for months. It stops now." Opie replied adamantly. "I left _my_ children in her care because I know she loves them and would do her best by them. Just like I know that you love them too, but enough is enough. I'm done making excuses for your vile behavior for my children's sake. They're grown enough to understand where that hatefulness in your heart comes from and it's not just grief. Whether or not you're happy that I'm back home with Kenny and Ellie where I belong is not important to me. Making my family whole again is and, if you can't get behind that, then maybe you shouldn't come around until you can." Opie scolded the stunned woman.

Turning, Opie opened the front door. "Good night, Helen."

* * *

Sitting in the armchair in the corner of his and Donna's bedroom, Opie held his head in his large hands.

 _That went really well_ , Opie thought bitterly _._ At the very least he wouldn't be bailing his mother out of jail tonight for the attempted murder of a meddling old biddy.

It had taken Opie the better part of an hour to calm his mother down once Helen had stormed out of the house. Listening to everything Mary had to put up with while he had been out of town made Opie feel even worse. Although he never really had an overly close relationship with Mary, who was by no stretch of the imagination an ideal mother, he had always known that she had tried to do her best by him. Opie knew that Mary had very little love for the Club and more than likely, under different circumstances, she and Helen Lerner would probably have more in common in that respect than not.

After what had seemed like a lifetime being married to a hard-living, even harder-drinking womanizing outlaw biker, Mary had grown tired of living the Life. It was shortly after Piney had been released from doing short-time in prison that Mary decided to leave her husband. She had wanted to spare her only son the same fate as his father, but Opie had loved and admired his father too much. Instead of embracing the opportunity to create a new life for himself with his mother in Galt, at 16, Opie had run back to his father and ultimately his destiny as a member of SAMCRO.

Tonight's episode with Helen had not been the first time Opie had gone a round with the woman and probably wouldn't be the last. They had a long history of discord, which was why Donna had practically cut herself off from her family after they had gotten married. Even after the mother and daughter had reconciled, Donna had always been a buffer between him and the mother-in-law who hated him with a passion. But having to deal with Helen on his own just as he felt himself about to turn the corner on his near-paralyzing grief, the painful memories the bitter woman invoked of his old lady just made the pain of losing Donna all the more fresh.

Suddenly, an errant thought popped into Opie's head.

_Sometimes seeking and getting a little comfort helps to keep the pain at bay._

Opie found himself thinking about Lyla. She had managed to give him a measure of comfort and release and it had felt good. Opie certainly wasn't one to judge anyone by what they chose to do for a living, especially since Lyla seemed to be a nice woman and her son looked well-cared for.

Thinking idly of the empty coke vials in her car and in plain view of her son gave Opie pause, but right now he was feeling too miserable and aggravated as a result of his confrontation with Helen Lerner and needed a little distraction. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Opie pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, unraveling it to reveal Lyla's number.

Looking at the number for a long while, Opie reached into his kutte and finally pulled out his prepay.


	11. Baby Steps

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Despite the crisp January weather, Opie was sweating profusely as he worked with Lowell to rotate the tires on the aging Toyota Camry they had up on a lift.

"Shit," He exclaimed as he handled one of the tires. "This tire barely has any tread. Are we really putting this piece of crap back on?"

Lowell shrugged his shoulders. "I spoke to the owner about it, but he swears the set still has some life in it."

"Yeah, well, what if this bitch blows out on him on the I-22? He's gonna turn around and sue T-M." Opie stated.

Lowell shook his head. "I told Gemma and she got him to sign a waiver that he was going against our advice to replace the tires."

Opie smiled as he patted Lowell on the back. "Good looking out."

It was a busy morning on the lot, something for which, as of late, Opie was grateful for. After nearly a month back at home, Opie was finally getting back into the groove of life in Charming. For that, he had his mother to be thankful for. Mary was making his transition into single fatherhood easier by deciding to stay on for a while longer. Eventually, Opie hoped that the thought of living on his own with his children wouldn't scare the shit out of him. In hindsight, it was the idea of trying to cope on his own that had probably led him to be so drawn to Lyla Dean in the first place. The porn star had been raising her son Piper on her own since he was born when she was 16 and she seemed to have a pretty good handle on her shit.

In recent weeks, Opie had found himself spending more and more time with Lyla, managing to hook up several times at the Clubhouse. Lyla, however, had become more than just a sexual outlet for him. In spite of her occupation, she seemed to have her head on straight, which had Opie thinking that maybe she would be the key to him turning his situation around.

Lyla and Piper had joined him and the kids for a couple of play dates. At first, and it was to be expected, it had been a little awkward, his kids not quite knowing what to make of Lyla. In spite of the questioning looks Opie found himself subjected to, Kenny had hit it off with Piper. Ellie, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether.

He had to give Lyla some credit as she tried her best to reach out to Ellie, but his daughter, who tended to be shy with strangers to begin with, was extremely reserved when it came to Lyla in particular. But Opie kept trying to bridge the gap between Ellie and Lyla, going so far as planning an outing to Chuck E. Cheese in Lodi this coming Saturday. Hoping for the best, but still fearing the worst, Opie realized that a major misstep on his part at this point could set back whatever progress he had made with his children, especially since Chuck E. Cheese had been a favorite Winston family hangout when Donna was alive. That was a chance he was going to have to take, however, because he and his children couldn't continue living as if they had died with Donna as well.

The only remaining fly in the ointment these days was Helen Lerner. Their first meeting after his return had been awful and had only gone downhill from there, although he pretty much had grown into not giving a fuck anymore. The only single positive to result thus far from their confrontation was that Donna's mother was at least now interacting civilly with his mother and her nagging of his children had stopped. Still, Opie thought it best to avoid his mother-in-law as that relationship would never be anything if not tense.

That didn't mean that Opie hadn't tried. He had even done something he had done maybe once in all the years he was married to Donna. He had taken the kids over to the Lerner home for dinner over the holidays. He had tried his best to be genial, and Bob Lerner and his sons had done their best to be warm and welcoming, but all things considered the event had been a pretty dismal failure.

While the kids loved and gravitated towards their grandfather, they couldn't wait to get away from their grandmother and, once home, begged their father not to take them back there again. Opie figured that the effort of making the visit had at least bought them a few months of peace and hoped that they could make it into the spring before having to make another obligatory visit.

Finishing the job with Lowell and with his mother at another doctor's appointment in Galt, Opie realized that he probably had enough time to at least begin another work order before he had to pick the kids up from school. He was on his way to check in with Gemma when he heard a car enter the lot. Turning around, his eyes focused on the navy blue and white Ford Crown Victoria police car emblazoned with the logo of the Sanwa Sheriff's Department as it came to a stop in the middle of the lot.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Opie's eyes narrowed as he noted a tall black man exit the vehicle and head towards him.

Standing by the entrance of the Clubhouse observing the scene play out in the lot, Tiki ran his hand through his hair. "Oh, shit." He groaned and quickly went into the Clubhouse to find his President.

"Opie Winston?" The cop said as he came to a stop in front of the tall bearded man.

"That's right. And you are?"

"I'm Lieutenant Eli Roosevelt. I'm in charge of the new sub-station of the Sanwa Sheriff's Department in Charming. I've been wanting to stop by to finally meet you."

"Well," Opie replied quietly. "You've 'met' me. What can I do for you?"

The Sheriff gave him an enigmatic smile. "Actually, when I heard you had returned to Charming, I had _hoped_ that you might stop by the station yourself. When that didn't happen, I thought I would come and see you."

"And why would I just _stop by_ to see you? We've just met."

"Well, I'm sorry for presuming, but I kind of had the notion stuck in my head that you would want an update on where we stand in the investigation into your wife's death. I am truly sorry for your loss, Opie. I want you to know that we are 110% focused on the investigation. We will do all we can to make sure that the culprits are caught and duly punished." Roosevelt replied sincerely.

"Right now," Opie started, his nostrils slightly flared. "I'm more concerned with taking care of what's left of my family."

"Is everything okay here?" Jax slapped a hand on Opie's shoulder as he eyed the Sheriff.

"Everything is quite all right, Jax." Roosevelt replied suavely. "I just wanted to introduce myself to Opie and let him know that we are thoroughly following up on all leads we have to locate Edgar Mendoza and Hector Salazar."

"That's good to hear." Jax replied.

"I was also hoping that you or the Club might have some Intel you'd be willing to share." Roosevelt added.

"Like what?" Opie asked.

"Motive, for one. Any bad history between the Sons and the Calaveras that would provoke them to pull off an attack at the Taste of Charming festival?"

"Not really, but here's something to think about that might help in your investigation," Jax started. "How 'bout you ask them?"

Roosevelt chuckled softly. "Funny thing about that is I can't. Seems the CL taken into custody after the attack have all met a similar and untimely demise in County while awaiting trial for their role in the attack."

"Really?" Opie drawled. "You don't say?"

"Yeah, it's really strange how all four of them died together in the same gruesome manner. It was in all the papers. You didn't read about it?" Roosevelt inquired innocently.

"We don't do much reading around here unless there's a hot chick on a Harley on the cover." Jax snarked.

"Humpf, I see." Roosevelt replied, just a hair trigger away from losing his cool with the two awfully laid-back bikers. "Well then, I'm asking you. Was there some sort of beef between the Sons and the CL that would prompt them to attack a large group of innocent bystanders?"

"Weren't we all innocent bystanders that day, Sheriff?" Jax stated sarcastically and, not waiting for an answer, continued. "As I already mentioned to you the _first_ time you dropped by unannounced to introduce yourself, we had no beef with the CL that I was aware of."

"Oh, yeah," Roosevelt snapped his fingers as he shook his head. "Now that you mention it, I do recall you saying that. But this time, I wasn't asking you." The Sheriff replied rather harshly. "I was hoping Opie might be able to shed some light on the circumstances surrounding the murder of his wife."

"I have nothing to say that could possibly add to what my brother has already told you." Opie spoke through gritted teeth. "Talk to what's left of the CL. Maybe they can give you a lead on tracking down their dirtbag friends."

"After what happened to the CL in lock-up? Not likely. You know, I would really hate it if Mendoza or Salazar ended up getting away too easy, like dying before they paid for what they did by serving life sentences. It would be a crying shame if the Club got in the way of that happening by dishing out vigilante justice."

"Isn't being the badge your job?" Jax asked.

"Yeah, it is."

"Then I suggest you go do it." Opie eyed the man coldly before turning to head towards the Clubhouse.

"Thanks for stopping by, Sheriff." Jax called over his shoulder as he followed his brother.

* * *

Eli Roosevelt walked into his office at the Morada sub-station of the Sanwa Sheriff's Department. They had taken over the old station house in Charming and it was still in the process of being renovated to suit the needs of the larger police presence being relocated into Charming.

Eli was surprised by how quickly he had become accustomed to living in the sleepy small town. It was a definitely slower paced lifestyle than what he was used to in Oakland, but it certainly had its advantages.

The move had allowed his wife Rita to do something that she had been dreaming of for years, which was starting her own business. After receiving a Bachelor's degree in Environmental Horticulture and Urban Forestry at UC Davis, his wife had spent the last ten years managing a large flower emporium in Oakland. This new business was the perfect opportunity for her to create and nurture something for herself, especially after the disappointment of being unable to conceive after 8 years of marriage.

It had been a bitter pill for them to swallow, but neither was ready to admit defeat and give up hope just yet. Even now, as Rita prepared to open her shop, they were working with a fertility specialist at St. Thomas. Although the goal was to have children of their own, if it wasn't meant to happen, there were other ways to bring a child into their home, either through surrogacy or adoption.

Sitting down at his desk, Eli filled out a report to memorialize his meet with Opie Winston. As he did, he was starting to seriously wonder whether or not the investigation into Donna Winston's death would be closed with some sort of satisfying finality. After all, in spite of the victim's association with a reputed outlaw MC, Opie Winston and his children were entitled to justice and it was his job to get it for them. He could only hope that his warning against Club retaliation had not fallen on deaf ears. Even months after the attack at the Taste of Charming festival, the town of Charming was still reeling from the aftermath and its citizens also deserved a bit of closure they would not get if SAMCRO meted out its own vigilante justice.

Besides, the last thing Eli wanted was to be forced to arrest a still-grieving husband for murdering the two scumbags that had caused his wife's death. Although Eli could not say without a doubt that he would do any different himself if he were in a similar situation, he still had a job to do.

_And I would really hate to make those motherless children fatherless as well._

* * *

"You a'ight, bro?"

Opie looked up as his best friend and President sat down at the table across from him. The Clubhouse was empty, save for the two patches and a lone prospect that left to retrieve some more liquor from the storage room.

"I guess."

"You handled that well." Jax said referring to the Sheriff's visit.

"There really wasn't much for me to say." Opie sighed. "Besides, I think he was more intent on warning us against retaliation than anything else."

"What retaliation?" Jax said, a knowing smile on his face that forced a chuckle out of Opie. "Roosevelt can't tie shit of what went down in County to the Club. And when we take care of Salazar and his bitch, he'll be just as clueless and shit out of luck."

"You gotta figure that tying us to any murder will go a long way in his efforts to get rid of the Club. That's prolly the only reason he was brought to Charming in the first place, to kill the Club." Opie advised.

"And we ain't gonna do shit to help him out on that." Opie managed a grin at his best friend's quip.

Jax sat back, his arms crossed over his chest, and observed his friend. Physically, he was back to the Ope that Jax had known before Donna died. Over the last few weeks, he had regained some weight and was working out again. No longer pale-faced, Opie was starting to look healthy and well-rested once again. He and Kenny had started work on the Panhead and the enthusiasm that his young son had for the project went a long way in cheering up his friend.

But Jax knew that despite all of the positive changes he saw in him, in a lot of ways, Opie was merely going through the motions of living. Having made the decision to give his best friend some space, even going so far as putting his foot down with his old lady to do the same, Jax was starting to think that maybe that had been the wrong move. Now, he finally decided, was the time to talk to his brother.

"So where's your head, bro?"

"Where it's always has been. On my shoulders." Opie tried to crack a smile out of his suddenly-serious President, but it fell flat.

"Yeah, I can see that. What I can't see, Ope is what's going on in that thick skull of yours."

Opie narrowed his eyes as he took in Jax's stone-faced demeanor. "What the fuck, Jax? You went and got yourself a PhD in Psychology while I was walkabout?" Opie asked with a slight edge in his voice.

Jax's temper flared before he had the chance to remind himself to remain calm. "No, you asshole! I'm your fuckin' brother and best friend. I'm concerned about you," He retorted. "And why wouldn't I be? You haven't exactly been open about what you've been through, _are_ going through. And it's not like you, Ope. Not with me."

Leaning back in his chair, Opie also crossed his arms over his chest. From the tight-lipped glare he was throwing his way, Jax was starting to question his decision to bring up the obviously still-sore subject of his friend's well-being.

 _No! Fuck that!_ Jax roared at himself. He had every right to be concerned for his brother because Jax knew exactly what head space he would find himself in if he were in Opie's shoes. Jax also knew that he and Opie were too much alike. Deciding on another approach, Jax chose a topic that always got men like them talking: pussy.

Jax ran a hand over the hair on his chin, knowing that Ope would somehow find a way to take offense with whatever he had to say now. "I've seen you hanging around the Clubhouse with one of the Cara Cara girls. I gotta say, Ope, I'm a little surprised. You never made use of porn pussy before. Usually, I was the one who was always hitting that shit."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Opie started, not sounding at all apologetic. "I didn't realize that hitting porn pussy was a perk only the Prince of Charming got to enjoy."

Suddenly wide-eyed, Jax took in his brother's angry glare. "Hey man, don't get your jock all twisted. There's no need to start throwing daggers. I've been there, maybe not exactly where you are—I wouldn't know 'cause you're not talking—but low enough to think that hitting it with a porn star was a good idea. I'm just concerned, that's all."

"There's no need for you to be concerned about me and Lyla." Opie sighed.

" _You and Lyla_?" Jax raised an eyebrow. _Now there's an 'Ope and Lyla'? Shit, Jo's gonna kill me._ "That sounds kind of serious, bro."

"And I know how to handle my shit, Jax." Opie replied defensively.

Jax offered Opie a cigarette, which he declined. Lighting up, Jax let out a trail of smoke as he continued. "Hey, I thought the same thing about myself, too. You might not think I know what you're feeling because, true, Jolene wasn't dead, but man, I was mourning her like she was. You wanna hit a porn star? Good for you. Just keep your shit wrapped as you enjoy the ride 'cause that's a high traffic zone you're ripping through. You're a lot smarter than me, bro. At least acknowledge that I made some pretty fucked up choices while mourning my old lady. Those choices almost fucked up my second chance with Jo. I just want you to be careful. I'd hate for this thing with the porn star to develop into a something that could hurt your family. This rebound shit could have a serious impact on your kids and I don't want anything jeopardizing any real chance you have of being happy again."

Jax got up and slapped a hand on Opie's shoulder. "Besides, the last thing you need is Jo finding out about this. On top of loving you like a brother and Kenny and Ellie like they were her own, she loved Donna like a sister. She would hate to think that you're trying to replace your old lady with someone like Lyla."

As Jax disappeared into the Chapel, Opie closed his eyes and heard his old man's voice as if Piney were sitting at the bar at that very moment.

_Son, you know you can't turn no trick into no treat._

* * *

"Okay, baby, you can do it!" Jolene exclaimed as her chortling and giggling son stared at his mother gleefully. He was standing, his chubby little fists clenched around the material of the couch's upholstery as he bounced up and down, looking like he was preparing to do the bunny hop. "Come to Mama, baby."

"Girl, he's playing you. He ain't going nowhere." Neeta called out as she held Jolene's phone in her hand, recording her efforts to get her son to take his first independent steps.

"Yes, he is, Neeta. Just keep the camera rolling."

Jolene sat on the floor of her living room, wearing a large oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings. With her legs spread apart, Jolene was bent over and holding a plush toy of the one-eyed Muno, TJ's favorite _Yo Gabba Gabba!_ character. Waving it frantically, she watched as TJ tried to make up his mind whether or not he was going for the bait. Jolene held her breath as he let one hand go from the couch. His unsteady legs started to wobble with the effort of staying upright. A slight look of panic passed over his sweet, little angel face and he desperately grabbed onto the coffee table before completely letting go of the couch and taking a step closer to his mother.

"Miss Neeta's right, Mommy. He's not coming." Maddy had been standing next to her nanny, quietly willing her little brother to get moving already.

"Just you wait. He wants to do it. He's been wanting to try it ever since we got rid of the walker." Jolene claimed.

"Maybe you should have let him stay in that thing for another month or so." Neeta advised.

"Nope, don't want him getting too used to it and lazy. It was just supposed to give him a little incentive to get moving."

"Maybe you not calling him right, Mommy. Can I try?" Maddy asked.

"Go ahead, baby." Jolene said, willing to try anything after almost an hour of both her and her son stuck in the same position.

Putting her hands on her hips and raising her voice, the little girl shouted. "C'mon, TJ. Come here to me."

TJ, hearing his big sister, turned his body towards her and gave her a wide grin, his front two teeth gleaming.

"C'mon, TJ." Maddy stomped her little foot. "I ain't gots all day, you know."

And as if that was all he had needed to hear, TJ teetered over to the end of the coffee table, let go, and took one unaided step forward. Followed by another.

"Oh my God!" Jolene tried to keep her squealing down to a level that wouldn't startle her son. "He's walking! Neeta, whatever you do, please don't stop recording!"

Laughing uproariously, Neeta zoomed in on the youngest Teller as he continued to take steps, his gait wide and wobbly, towards his sister, who was loudly shouting encouragement. Crawling onto her hands and knees, Jolene quietly followed behind him, ready to catch him if he fell over on anything but his well-padded booty.

Finally grabbing hold of her brother's little fists, Maddy grinned triumphantly at her mother. "See! I told ya I could get him to walk!"

"That's because my granddaughter can do anything she sets her mind to."

"Papa!" Maddy screeched. Letting go of her brother, who quickly fell onto his butt, the little girl took off for the front door. Clay scooped her up and gave her a great big noisy kiss in the crook of her neck while she giggled.

Clay and Gemma had grown quite accustomed to just walking into the Teller household at any given moment. Today, their timing could not have been more perfect as they walked in just in time to see their youngest grandson walking for the first time.

Practically running to TJ, Gemma picked up the squealing baby and smothered him with kisses. "He's just like my Jax." She cooed.

"Hey," Jolene smiled as she got up from the floor. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I thought you were on an all-day shopping expedition in Lodi."

"Yeah, I was, but I decided to cut my retail therapy short." Gemma advised with a battle light in her eyes.

 _Uh, oh. I know that look_ , Neeta thought.

Apparently, so did Jolene. "Okay. How about some coffee while you enlighten me on the bee that had the audacity to crawl up your butt, irking you enough to keep you from shopping? Wanna join us, Dad?"

"Not if it's that decaffeinated sh—stuff. Besides, baby girl, I think this is a _ladies only_ -type of discussion Gem wants with you two." Clay grinned. "Just hand me my grandson so me and Maddy can have some fun in the family room."

* * *

Walking over to the breakfast nook, Neeta placed several plates of sliced homemade pound cake and a carafe of fresh coffee on the table.

"So what juicy bit of gossip do you have that cut short your shopping trip?" Neeta asked. "It must be some major shit hitting the fan for you to walk out of that shoe sale you've been nattering on about all week."

"Believe me, I'm not happy about it myself, but this shit couldn't wait." Gemma replied as she pulled out one of her medicated cigarettes. She eyed the glare on her daughter-in-law's face. "Yeah, I know your edict about smoking weed in front of my grandchildren, but they're in the family room with their Papa and I need this to calm my ass down." Gemma lit the joint and took a hit. "In fact, here, you might want to toke up before I tell you what I saw."

Jolene eyed the Queen Mother with a dangerous glint in her pale green eyes. "Does this have anything to do with _my_ Jax?" She growled.

"What?" Gemma asked, confused as to why Jolene was bringing up Jax. Remembering Jax's man-whore past, Gemma rolled her eyes. "Don't get your thong in a twist. Your man ain't stepping out on ya. He don't have a death wish, but judging from what I saw, his best friend might."

Jolene wrinkled her nose. "Opie? What's this got to do with Opie?"

"Aw shit," Neeta exclaimed as she sat down. "This is gonna be good."

"When was the last time you spoke to Ope?" Gemma asked.

"Ha!" Jolene chuckled sarcastically. "He's been avoiding me like I'm a carrier of the plague. I haven't seen or spoken to Ope since the holidays. And even then, our conversations never went beyond 'Merry Christmas' and 'Happy New Year'."

"As the reigning Queen of Charming, sweetheart, I think it's time you have a talk with him." Gemma started. "I had just parked my car in the Mall parking lot when I saw Opie with his kids in front of Chuck E. Cheese." She paused for a beat. "And he wasn't alone."

Jolene blinked once, then twice. "Okay." Jolene replied, not quite seeing the point of Gemma calling an emergency meeting.

"He had a woman with him."

"What?" Both Neeta and Jolene said in unison.

"Yeah, and she had a kid with her, too." Gemma added, taking another drag from her joint.

"Well," Neeta hedged. "Maybe it was one of them play date kinda things. You know, for the kids."

"That's not the impression I got." Gemma made smoke rings as she exhaled.

"Nah, Gem. I have to agree with Neeta. You just got the wrong impression, I guess, seeing Opie out with someone _not_ Donna. I mean, damn. It's barely been five months. Opie wouldn't . . . I mean, not so soon, right?" Jolene asked grimly.

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, baby girl," Gemma shook her head. "But I've seen her around before today."

"Where? When? And why the fuck didn't you tell me?" Jolene angrily grabbed the joint out of Gemma's hand. She had the feeling she was going to need it.

"She brought her car in for service about a month ago and when she came to pick it up, she and Opie were talking all familiar, like they had met before. I thought it was strange, but not necessarily worth mentioning. Shit, I must be getting off my game in my old age." Gemma shook her head.

"What does she look like?" Neeta asked, popping a chunk of pound cake into her mouth.

"Cute. Long blonde, wavy hair. Probably extensions, with a pretty face and nice body. No ass to speak of and a barely-there rack though, which is strange, considering our men like a little meat on their pussies. She has that typical girl-next-door look. But that's not all." Gemma explained, finishing ominously.

Taking her third toke from Gemma's joint, Jolene passed it back and waited for the shoe to drop. "What else?"

"She's a Cara Cara girl."

The room was suddenly dead silent.

"The fuck you say." Jolene tried laughing it off as she got up from her seat. _Gemma must really be off her game_ , Jolene thought. Turning to face her mother-in-law, Jolene was confronted by the fact that Gemma was never wrong, not when it came to her SAMCRO boys. Suddenly infuriated, Jolene exploded. "Do you mean to tell me that my brother, my best friend's widower and father of my niece and nephew is spending time with a fuckin' porn slut?" Gemma winced as the tone of Jolene's voice grew louder with each word.

"Oh shit, Gemma." Neeta sat back in her chair. "You really should have thought this over before bringing it to baby girl here 'cause shit's about to get seriously twisted."

"Is he doing her?" Jolene asked, suddenly somewhat calm, as she bit her thumbnail.

"She's a fuckin' porn star, Jolene." Gemma stated as if putting out willy-nilly was an obligation that came with the job. "But, taking into consideration benefit of the doubt and all that happy bullshit, I made a couple of calls on the way home. She's been hanging around the Clubhouse for a couple of weeks, with Ope in particular and has stayed the night with him in his dorm, so yeah, I'd say all evidence points to Opie hitting that shit."

"What is wrong with him?" Jolene started pacing back and forth in her kitchen. "Why do men insist on drowning their pain in inappropriate pussy? I mean, shit, Gem, he has a damn porn star hanging around Ellie. He's not thinking straight."

"Or he's thinking with his _other_ head." Neeta chimed in. "He's always seemed pretty levelheaded, but Jolene, losing a life partner the way he did, it's not surprising that he's taken a sharp left in his private life. And it is _his_ private life."

"Fuck that shit!" Gemma exclaimed, pointing the joint at Neeta. "There is nothing private when children are involved."

"Gemma's right. I'm just an old lady and whatever or _whoever_ a patch decides to do at the Clubhouse is none of my business. But he's bringing this woman around his kids and that makes it my business. Donna would rise from her grave just to slap me in the face if I didn't do something." Jolene said bitterly, remembering her own shitty life with her egg donor and what low-lives she had been exposed to before she came to live with her father in Charming. If she could prevent Ellie from being exposed to that or worse, it was her responsibility to do just that.

"As the new Queen of the Charter, it's your responsibility to do what needs to be done to take care of your family and that means getting Opie in line for the sake of his kids. Playing happy family with a porn star is bound fuck Opie in the head. He's vulnerable and there could be some serious fallout for those kids because of this rebound bullshit."

"You know, no one's even bothered to ask what's this girl's name." Neeta noted.

"I don't know the last name, I can prolly look it up on the paperwork for her car, but one of the croweaters told me her name is Lyla." Gemma replied.

"Lyla?" Jolene bit out. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Ironic, actually, how the porn pussy I used to replace that tired old trick Ima Tite would be the one fuckin' Ope."

Gemma blinked. "So you know her?"

Jolene nodded. "Yeah, I know her from my porn producing days at Cara Cara. Lyla Dean. Bitch owes me her career. After I used her to replace Ima in a film, her career took off. And after Ima was _forced_ into retirement, she became Cara Cara's 'It Girl'. This is un-fuckin'-believable!"

"On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being disgustingly trashy, how does she rate as far as porn pussy goes?" Gemma asked.

"Shit, I don't know. Ima kinda tainted my perspective on such things. They're all whores, as far as I'm concerned. I guess she didn't skeeve me nearly as bad as Ima did, but she's no saint either. I knew she had a kid, but I have no clue if she's a good mother or not." Jolene replied.

"Question remains, Jolene, as the SAMCRO President's old lady, what are you gonna do about it? You may not have the right to dictate to patches in their own Clubhouse, but there is one patch that answers to you and only you in this house." Gemma stated.

"I'm not involving Jax. He's kept me from sticking my foot up Ope's ass since he came home." Jolene replied. "I'll handle this myself. I may not have a say with the Club, but I do with the Club's women."

"So what's the plan, General Kick-Ass?" Gemma smirked.

Jolene looked at mother-in-law with a grim look on her face. "Bust 'em up."

 _I taught her so well_.


	12. Best Laid Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

"Uh, Opie?"

Opie cut the motor to his Dyna and removed his helmet, hanging it on the handlebars. Seeing the Prospect standing in front of him, Opie grinned inwardly.

 _It's been a while since I gave Bobby's kid a good hazing_. "What, shithead? I'm busy." Opie said as he lit a cigarette.

"Yeah, I can see that," Tiki eyed the towering patch. "But you're wanted in the Clubhouse."

Opie got off his ride, running his hand through his mop of hair. "Really? It's Sunday. Who even knows I'm here this early?"

"Yeah, uh huh." Tiki avoided Opie's gaze as he answered a question that hadn't been asked. "Well, guess the garbage ain't gonna walk itself to the dumpster. See ya."

Opie watched as the young Prospect turned and ran towards several large black bags of garbage he had cleared out of the Clubhouse earlier, remnants of a weekend spent partying by SAMCRO.

"What the hell?" He muttered under his breath as he strode towards the Clubhouse.

All Opie was looking forward to was a shower and crashing in his dorm for a few hours before heading home. He was simply too worn out by the previous night's activities to deal with his mother's questions so early in the morning. Mary was sure to be pissed that not only had he not come home last night, he had also saddled her with Kenny, Ellie, _and_ Piper after spending the afternoon in Lodi. But whatever beat down he was in for, he'd gladly take.

 _Not only does Lyla have tons of stamina, she's extremely flexible_ _too_ , Opie grinned to himself. _My early morning walk of shame_ _wa_ _s certainly well worth it_.

Lyla wasn't a complicated woman, which made being with her pretty straightforward and simple.

_She's nothing like Donna. My old lady could talk my head off if given a chance and I loved that about her. I miss that._

Although Opie had tried several times to get Lyla talking, they always ended up naked instead. Most of his brothers would consider her the perfect woman and, in spite of his conversation with Jax before Church on Friday, Opie was starting to feel a lot better about his relationship with her. It was clear to him that she took good care of her son and while he wasn't too keen on her career of choice, he respected that she did what was necessary to take care of her family. Opie enjoyed spending time with her and Piper and was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

Opie had decided to take a cue from Lyla and not over think this relationship shit. Right now, they were two people enjoying each other's company. In the back of his mind, however, the possibility existed of turning this into something which would allow the Winstons to be a complete family again.

Pushing aside his misgivings regarding Lyla's porn career and possible drug use, Opie decided to mull over a new direction for him and Lyla to take later on. Entering the Clubhouse, Opie had forgotten that someone had wanted to speak to him as all he could think about was taking a shower so he could rid himself of the funk of last night's exertions before going home to his kids. He would have made it to the dorms too if that sweet and familiar voice hadn't stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Late night?"

Opie's large shoulders tensed and then slumped.

 _Aw shit_!

Turning around, his eyes settled on the small figure who was sitting at one of the tables against the wall, her legs casually crossed at the knee while she sipped at a large mug of coffee.

 _That damn Tiki. If I have my way, he'll never patch into SAMCRO_.

As his eyes centered on the ever-expressive face of his sister from another mister, Opie groaned inwardly as he realized that his day of reckoning had finally arrived. He should be grateful as it was probably a small miracle that Jax had managed to rein his old lady in as long as he had.

Somehow, with his best friend keeping Jolene off of his ass since his return, Opie had lulled himself into a false sense of peace and tranquility, thinking that he had managed to escape being reamed by his President's old lady for good. But it was obvious by her manner that all bets were now off. However, although Opie loved Jolene Teller like the bratty little sister he never asked for but had gotten anyway, as a patch for over 15 years he wasn't about to take any shit from her.

At least, that had been the plan.

Shoving his hand into the pockets of his jeans, Opie grinned. "Yeah, I guess you can say that. Well, I'm gonna head on back—" He replied, pointing down the hall towards his dorm.

"What's the rush?" Jolene kicked aside one of the chairs across from her. "Sit and have a cup of coffee with me."

"I was gonna hit the shower, Jo. I'm a little rank."

"Don't worry about me. I've been around sex-funky men before. In fact, I left one in my bed this morning." Jolene snarked, a knowing grin on her face, which suddenly disappeared. "Have. A. Seat."

With something resembling a petulant sigh, Opie grabbed a chair. Turning it around, he straddled it and watched as Jolene poured him a mug of coffee from the carafe sitting on the table and passed it to him. Opie took a long sip of the scalding hot coffee. He had a feeling he was really going to need it.

Jolene wasted no time. "I'm sorry if this seems like an ambush, Ope, but we haven't really had the chance to talk alone since you've been back. It really is good to have you home again. I missed you and, for a while there, I was worried, wondering if we would ever see you in Charming again."

"It was only ever a matter of time, Jo. I wasn't going to stay away forever. I just needed to get my shit together." Opie explained. "I thought you of all people would understand that, especially since three months isn't exactly _four years_."

If Jolene was taken aback by his jab at her self-imposed exile from Charming, she didn't show it. Her wide, green eyes remained soft with the love she had for her "big brother".

Nodding, Jolene reached over and squeezed his arm. "Yeah, you're prolly the only other person that knows the feeling of having a pair of size 13s shoved up your ass. All I can say is thank God for Big Otto. He certainly made me see how stupid I was by running away from my life in Charming, instead of just facing it head on. I'm glad you had the good sense to seek him out."

Hearing the understanding in Jolene's comment, Opie let himself relax in his chair.

 _Guess she's not gonna rip me a new one after all_.

"Jax told you?" He queried softly.

"Yeah, but don't be mad at him, okay? Jax telling me went a long way in keeping me from finding a chair tall enough and a piece of wood strong enough to give you the beat down you most definitely deserved." Jolene replied rather calmly as she got up to retrieve a bottle of Patron and two shot glasses from the bar. Sitting down again, she poured out two shots. "Especially when you consider that _I_ was the one who had to break the news to Kenny and Ellie that their father had left town. It wasn't pretty, Ope. You owe me." Jolene tossed her shot back effortlessly, slamming the glass on the table.

Opie grimaced. Leaving town without facing his children first was just one of his many regrets. "I'm sorry I did that to you and the kids. I guess I took for granted that I could always count on you and Jax to handle my shit while I was gone."

"You can _always_ count on us, Ope. Ever since we were kids, it was always just the three of us watching out for each other, having each other's backs. Even though everything has changed on us, nothing has changed in that regard. I love you and my niece and nephew more than I can say, but you leaving," Jolene said, looking Opie in his sad blue eyes. "Devastated me. Kenny and Ellie felt like you had abandoned them and your family and it was hard comforting them when I felt the same way, too. I swore I was gonna make you atone for every tear shed by those children. Learning that Otto helped you find your way, along with some major lovin' my old man laid on me kept me from making them orphans."

Opie absorbed what she had to say and the hurt with which she said it. "I guess I should be grateful that my best friend's got game in the bedroom, huh?" He teased, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"We can both be grateful in that regard. The man does have skills." Jolene smirked as she downed another shot of tequila.

As the two friends continued to sit in a comfortable silence, Opie felt a measure of relief. It seemed that the worst of his friend's anger had been abated. Finishing his coffee, he raised the shot of Patron to his lips.

Was he ever wrong.

"Speaking of skills," Jolene started casually. "I hear you're fucking a porn star."

Opie choked in mid-swallow, narrowly avoiding spraying the table and Jolene with the fiery liquid. Slamming down his shot glass, he coughed and sputtered before finally catching his breath. "Shit, Jo. Didn't see that coming." Opie shook his head as he wiped the tequila off his kutte with his hand. "I guess it can't be said that you're not a forthright chick."

"Have I ever been otherwise?" Jolene shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, we've known each other way too long to be beating about the bush, Ope and I'm sure as shit not about to start now. Not when it's painfully obvious that you are losing your fuckin' mind." Her tone of voice had changed, becoming hard and a little cold.

"That's a little harsh," Opie retorted angrily. "Especially since you have no fuckin' clue what you're talking about."

Opie noted the battle light suddenly igniting in Jolene's green eyes and realized that the gloves were coming off.

"Enlighten me." Jolene challenged. "What don't I have a clue about?" She growled as she folded her arms under her chest.

Opie looked at Jolene for a long time. "It's none of your fuckin' business." He finally replied as he pushed himself off the chair.

"You're absolutely right. You wanna bang the whole roster of porn stars down at Cara Cara, it's none of my business, so knock yourself out." Jolene responded nonchalantly. "You start bringing rancid pussy around your kids—on an outing to Chuck E. Cheese for chrissake's—it becomes my business in a hot minute."

Opie towered over her. "How the fuck do you know that?" He exclaimed angrily.

"Gemma bore witness to you playing happy family with Cara Cara's It-Girl in Lodi."

Opie laughed bitterly. "Never thought I'd live to see the day that the Queen of Charming would use the SAMCRO Princess to do her dirty work."

"Nah, see that's where you're mistaken, sport. The _former_ Queen may have dropped the dime on your ass, but it was the _current_ Queen's decision to knock you upside the head and I'm trying really hard not to be heavy-handed like Gemma was, but you're making it really hard." Jolene explained.

"Then stay out of it," Opie growled. "Because like I said, it's none of your business. You have no right to stick your nose in my life or how and with whom I raise my children."

Jolene was out of her seat and in his face before Opie could take in a step back. "Funny how it's only my business when you dump your dirty work on me, right? You didn't have a problem with me sticking my nose into your business when it came to convincing two children who had just lost their mom that they weren't going to lose their dad too. Or the times Kenny got into trouble at school for fighting. Or the times Ellie woke up screaming with night terrors. I wasn't butting in then, was I? I was being there for you and those kids because that's what I do, it's who I was made to be. And if I think you're making a horrible mistake getting involved with a porn star, then I have earned the right to let you know to your face."

"You haven't earned shit because _nothing_ gives you the right to dictate to me, especially when it comes to my family." Opie retorted.

"Do you even hear yourself? The common sense you're lacking right now gives me every right to pull your head out of your ass for you. If you want to bang Lyla, fine! I don't care if you do it in the middle of the fuckin' lot! You can wear your dick down to a nub for all I care! But bringing that kind of woman around your children crosses the line, Ope. Have you lost your mind or do you really believe that Donna would countenance having that kind of role model for Ellie?"

Opie winced as Jolene threw his old lady into the mix. "Lyla is a good woman. She takes care of her kid—" Opie began, but Jolene interrupted him with a loud snort.

"Are you serious?! I probably know Lyla Dean better than you do. Those 'private parties' for foreign businessmen, Jesus Christ, Ope! She's no better than my piece of shit egg donor who turned tricks while I was locked in closet. Are you so delusional over a piece of ass that you don't recognize damaged goods when you see it?" Jolene raged indignantly.

"Lyla's not your whore of a mother! And you don't know shit about her or her situation, so get off your fuckin' high horse because it would be too easy to say that the apple don't fall far from the tree!" Opie eyed his clearly-shocked friend coldly. "Bottom line, you have no say in what happens in my life and you sure as fuck have no right to talk to me like you do. _I_ am a patch and an officer of this Club and _you_ are nothing but Jax Teller's old lady. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let my brother's pussy tell me how to handle my shit."

He never saw it coming.

The small balled up fist landed on his nose with stunning force. The blow was so unexpected that it literally propelled the big man back a step as he absorbed the impact, his eyes instantly watering. Looking down at Jolene with a mixture of astonishment and anger, the young woman he's known since she was six years old cut loose on him with a vengeance.

"How dare you talk to me like that, you piece of shit! Aside from Gemma, I am probably the only other 'pussy' in this Clubhouse that honestly gives a damn about you!" Jolene grabbed her handbag and threw it over her shoulder, eyeing Opie with a look of contempt. "I don't even know who you are anymore and the sad part is I don't think you know either. You think you're gonna figure that out by losing yourself in porn pussy? You go on then, but if you end up destroying what's left of your family, don't say you weren't warned." Jolene turned and stalked out of the Clubhouse.

* * *

Tig sat at one of the tables underneath the overhang outside of the Clubhouse and watched his President light up his fourth cigarette in a row.

"Hey, Jax. I thought you had cut down on the cancer sticks for your old lady." Tig remarked as he scratched his eyebrow with the nail on his pinky finger.

Jax, who had been pacing back and forth for the past forty minutes, suddenly stopped. He looked at the cigarette in his hand with a furrowed brow thinking that he couldn't even remember lighting it. "It's been a rough day." He finally replied, causing Tig to look at the younger man a little sideways.

Taking a quick look at the time on his pre-paid, Tig smirked. "It's not even eight in the morning, bro. Something bothering you?"

 _Hell's yeah, something's botherin' me_ , Jax thought, taking another drag from his cigarette as he stared at Tig.

His old lady—at the instigation of his dear ol' mom Jax was sure—had finally confronted Opie at the Clubhouse the day before. And just like Jax knew he would, Opie had responded in a manner that had made his displeasure known, but which in Jax's mind had crossed the line. Although Jax would have preferred that his old lady stay out of his best friend's private life when it came to who he saw fit to bang, Opie needed to understand that Jolene's meddling came from a place of love and concern in her heart.

Jolene wasn't a gossip and barely hung out at the Clubhouse any more. If Gemma had just kept what she had seen in Lodi to herself, maybe his overprotective wife would have continued giving Opie space long enough for his brother's relationship with the porn star to run its course. Instead, according to Jolene, they had exchanged heated and ugly words, said with the sole purpose of hurting each other.

Ope had every right to tell Jolene to mind her business, but he took it a step too far by pulling the patch card. There was no woman alive, except maybe for Gemma, that loved and respected the Club more than his Jolene. She had grown up in the midst of grungy, dirty bikers and loved every minute of it. As the daughter of a First 9 member, Jolene was as much SAMCRO as he and Ope and calling his wife "pussy" had not settled well on Jax. It was disrespectful as Jolene had never been anything but his old lady and a true friend to Opie and Donna. And it had hurt Jolene more than anything an outsider could have said to her.

It saddened Jax to know that his friend was so angry and bitter, but even though he knew Opie was still grieving the one woman he had ever truly loved, brother or not, best friend or not, the big man wasn't getting a pass.

"Where the fuck's Ope?" Jax answered Tig's question with another question. "Have you tried calling him?"

"Like every ten minutes, man." Tig replied. "Still no answer."

Jax was about to go back into the Clubhouse when the familiar roar of Opie's bike rooted him to the spot where he was standing. Parking in his usual place next to Jax's bike, Opie could see the stiff set of his friend's shoulders as Jax lit another cigarette with the half-smoked one in his other hand. He looked pissed and Opie was sure it had less to do with the fact that he was late and more to do with the dressing down he had given Jolene the day before. As he strode towards the Clubhouse, ready to apologize, Opie was only half-expecting what came next.

With his cigarette dangling from his lips, and before Opie had time to react, Jax threw a roundhouse punch that literally spun Opie on his feet before he hit the ground face-first. The rock-hard blow to the side of his face dazed him enough that Opie was momentarily blinded, his vision going black. Gingerly bringing his hand to his face, he could feel the small gash underneath his left eye bleed onto his fingers. Suddenly, someone was nudging at his booted-foot, causing Opie to flip over into a sitting position as he propped himself up with one hand on the blacktop.

Shaking his head to disperse the haze clouding his vision, Opie found himself looking up at just Tig. "You a'ight, brother?" Tig asked as he extended his hand, an offer to help Opie up off the ground.

Pushing his long hair away from his face, Opie looked at Tig's hand long and hard before grabbing onto it and letting his brother haul him up onto his feet.

"I'm not sure yet," Opie replied. "Where's Jax?"

"Inside." Tig jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the Clubhouse. "You should go ice that."

Opie nodded as he too headed inside. With the garage set to open for business in about another thirty minutes, Opie was expecting the Clubhouse to be packed with members and mechanics getting their morning fix of caffeine before starting their work day. He was grateful to find just Bobby sitting at the bar with a mug of coffee and the morning's paper opened in front of him.

"Hey, Ope." He greeted and did a double take. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm an asshole." Opie replied on his way into the kitchen.

* * *

Jax was sitting at a small table with his back against the wall when Opie entered the kitchen. Looking up briefly at his childhood pal, Jax went back to carefully rolling a joint as Opie pulled a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer.

"I'm sorry I sucker-punched you." Jax said, the joint now hanging from his lips as he patted his kutte for a lighter, only to realize he had left it outside on the picnic table.

Holding the peas to his left eye, Opie pulled his Zippo out of his pocket and tossed it to Jax. "I had it coming." He shrugged his shoulders. "Little early to be hitting the bud, dontcha think?"

Jax took a deep drag off the joint and exhaled smoke rings. "I'm self-medicating. I had a rough night."

Opie shook his head as he pulled out a chair and sat across from Jax. "I'm sorry for talking to Jo the way I did yesterday."

Jax nodded, taking another hit before passing the joint to his friend. "I don't like having my best friend and my old lady at each other's throats. First of all, that's never happened before. And second, it's just fuckin' weird, man. You're her Sasquatch, for chrissake's."

Opie looked at Jax from behind the bag of frozen peas, the remorse clear in his bright blue eyes. "I'll catch up to her after we get back from our meet with Laroy. I'll apologize, although I have a feeling she's just gonna end up hating me more." He rolled the joint between his thumb and middle finger.

"Why would you say that?"

Opie dropped the bag of peas on the table and chuckled to himself. "Let's just say that if Jo had an issue with Lyla hanging around my kids before, her head's gonna explode when she finds out both Lyla and Piper are living with me and the kids."

"What?" Jax shook his head, more out of a sense of disbelief rather than not having heard Opie correctly. " _What_? When the fuck did that happen?"

"My fight with Jo, it set the tone for the fucked up and shitty day I had yesterday." Opie started. "There was a fire in Lyla's apartment building sometime yesterday afternoon in the apartment above hers. Her place got flooded and she needed somewhere to stay until she can figure out her next move."

"And you were her only option because she has no one to turn to that she's known longer than a month?" Jax asked sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air when Opie flashed him a sideways glare. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

Opie smirked as he shook his head. "Funny thing is that, eventually, this was exactly the direction I had seen us heading in—" He started, but stopped.

"Now you're not so sure?" Jax asked and Opie nodded.

"I don't know what I'm sure or not sure about anymore, Jax." Opie continued. "I thought my kids and Lyla and her kid had all hit it off, but Kenny and Ellie were not happy at all when I brought them home last night. I tried explaining that it was only temporary, but then Mary put her two cents in and I ended up saying some shameful shit to her, too. She packed her bags and is probably heading back to Galt as we speak."

"You mean you didn't talk to your mom about this first?" Jax asked.

"It's my house." Opie replied indignantly.

"Yeah, it is and apparently Mary knew that too. Seems like her only two choices were suck it up or leave." Jax responded.

"Yeah, well, she left me in a bind. That's why I'm late. I had to drop Kenny and Ellie off at school. Then I had to schlep my ass over to Piper's school in Pope cuz Lyla had an early call at Cara Cara. I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with them afterschool, though." Opie said.

"You know Jo loves those kids like they're hers, man." Jax stated. "She gets out of school at 2:30, which gives her plenty of time to pick Abel up. Grabbing Kenny and Ellie won't be a problem, she used to do it all the time."

"What about Piper?" Opie asked hopefully.

"Whoa, no way, man. The mere suggestion would push Jo into Crazy Town. I'm sorry, bro, but Lyla's gonna have to figure that one out herself." Jax finished his joint and got up from the table. "I need to get moving on this meet with Laroy. Are you up to it or maybe you wanna stay behind and deal with your shit? It's your call, bro."

With new law enforcement in Charming, SAMCRO had been forced to operate the last couple of months on the extreme down low. Today was their first meet with the Niners in order to set out the Club's new plan for transporting the merch from Charming to Oak-Town.

As their middle man, Sheriff Guy Trammel would transport the merch to the Niners and return with payment. It was a risky venture for all involved, but after months of keeping a low profile, Trammel had been able to determine that he could still act with autonomy.

Besides, the Club had continued receiving their twice-monthly shipments from the Irish and with the serious stock pile of weapons they had sitting in their new warehouse, Jax believed that it was time for the Sons to get back to the business of gun running. Working with SAMTAC, SAMCRO would bring the shipments down from Canada to be assembled in the old building formerly used as a storage facility by Oswald Lumber. The Club had purchased the warehouse through a dummy corporation from Elliott Oswald. It was located in a gated property only minutes away from the Wahewa reservation and it was now the primary location for gun assembly and storage of the Sons' merch.

Even though Jax knew Opie had family drama to deal with at the moment, he was hoping Ope would make the call to join them on this meet. It was important not just in terms of earning again under the jurisdiction of Sanwa Sheriff's, but Ope would be standing alongside him and Tig for the first time since his return. Jax was tired of working with one or the other of his officers and it was time to put the bad blood to bed, at least in terms of not letting it interfere with the Club's ability to earn.

For the most part, Tig seemed to have his head screwed on a lot tighter as of late. He was seeing less and less of his constantly drunk and guilt-ridden brother and more of his crazy, but loyal and fierce SAA. Jax was sure that his old lady had played a major part in making that happen after the royal ass ripping she had laid on Tig. Now, as he waited for Opie's response, Jax hoped that she had managed to have the same effect on his obviously lost soul brother, Opie.

"Nah, bro. Let's get this shit with Laroy wrapped up today. At least I'll feel like I accomplished something. I can deal with my shit later." Opie advised. "Lord knows it'll be waiting for me when I return."

* * *

"I'm leaving."

The two words and the tone of voice caught Jolene off guard. Shifting in her chair behind the desk in her class room, Jolene looked away from the lesson plan she had been reviewing for her next class and blinked twice as she saw Mary Winston standing in the doorway.

"Mary, what in the world are you doing here? And what do you mean you're leaving?"

The short and stout woman stomped over to practically fall into the younger woman's embrace. "It's Ope. That asshole has finally done it. I've had enough. I'm going home." She sobbed on Jolene's shoulder.

_What did the shithead do now?_

Trying to calm the woman down, Jolene managed to get her to sit in a chair next to her desk and handed her a box of tissue. "Mary, why are you so upset? Please tell me what's going on."

Mary grabbed a handful of Kleenex and sniffed, making an attempt to mop up her face. "I'm not about to live with a fuckin' porn star." She responded.

"What are you talking about?" Jolene asked, slightly confused and refusing to let her mind jump to conclusions without all the facts.

"Don't look at me like I'm the one that's lost _my_ mind. Ope's the one that moved that porn slut and her son into his home last night!" Mary exclaimed.

Jolene leaned back in her chair. "Oh shit." She breathed as she ran both hands through her hair.

"Yes, and my moron of a son is walking all up and through it." Mary replied and started weeping again as she recounted her situation with Opie, which eventually led to their confrontation early this morning.

Considering the lifestyle Piney Winston had maintained for over 40 years, to say that he was the most stable and nurturing of both of Opie's parents was saying a mouthful. Mary had no delusions that she had failed her son miserably as a mother. It was her greatest regret in life. Mary knew she had a lot to make up for with her son and that's why when Opie had asked her to stay with her grandchildren while he hit the road for a bit, she had jumped at the chance. Not only would it give her the chance to be there for Ope when he needed her the most, but it gave her time alone with the grandchildren she loved, but barely knew. Much like Opie, Kenny and Ellie had always seemed to prefer Piney over her.

Once Opie had returned from his walkabout, Mary had been secretly overjoyed that he had asked her to stay a little longer. Truth was, after months with her grandchildren and spending time with Jolene Teller and her extended SAMCRO family, the thought of going back to her small house and her lonely existence in Galt overwhelmed her with sadness. Besides, it would give her the opportunity to be the type of mother Mary couldn't comprehend being in her younger days because she had been too self-absorbed at the time. Jolene had taught her a lesson that would have benefited her marriage to Piney and the upbringing of their son had she learned it over thirty years ago. Jolene was living proof that a woman didn't have to lose herself completely once she became an old lady and mother. On the contrary, Jolene's relationships with her old man and her children seemed to thrive because she was so much more than just the SAMCRO President's old lady. Sometimes, Mary envied the way Jax looked at his young wife, with a mixture of pride, love, and need that no man in her life had ever demonstrated to Mary.

Just when Mary thought that she and Opie were making great strides in repairing the relationship she had damaged, Lyla Dean shows up to turn his head and warp his mind. Mary had heard through the grapevine that Lyla worked in the _adult entertainment_ business. Knowing men and their twisted fantasies, it didn't surprise her a bit that her son would choose to tap a porn star and since whatever happened in the Clubhouse was none of her business, Mary chose to remain mum on the situation.

That had been a mistake because before she knew it, not only was Mary taking care of her grandchildren, but on occasion, Lyla's son as well. While Piper, for the most part, was quiet and polite, having Ellie exposed to the likes of his mother did not sit well with Mary. When Opie announced that Lyla was moving in—just until her apartment was habitable again, he claimed—Mary knew she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

But whatever magic Lyla was capable of creating between the sheets apparently had her son all twisted in the head because he was determined to defend Lyla, no matter who he hurt.

Mary was boohooing again, unable to suck in enough air to repeat the words spoken by her son that had devastated her. Pulling a bottle of water from her bag, Jolene broke the seal and coaxed Mary to take several sips as she wiped down the Mary's face with tissue.

"Mary, I know this is a bad situation, but just think what you leaving will do to the kids."

The older woman sighed. "I know, Jolene and I know I have a bad habit of running away when the going gets tough, but I can't stay in that house. Not after what Opie said."

"What did he say?" Jolene patted her hand.

Mary blew her nose, avoiding eye contact with Jolene. "He said that a porn star living in his house was only a step down from a grandmother who was a former stripper."

Jolene shook her head. "I'm so sorry he spoke to you like that." _I certainly know how you feel,_ she thought bitterly. _After all, I'm just Jax Teller's pussy._ "That is so unlike Ope. I know it doesn't justify such cruelty, but he's angry and confused. He's lost, Mary and he needs you. With Lyla in the house, you are the only stability Kenny and Ellie have right now."

Mary shook her head, her eyes filled with remorse and regret. "It's one thing to take care of my grandchildren, but I'll be damned if I play housekeeper and nanny for that woman. Donna always handled her shit. Let's see how well Miss Lyla Dean can handle hers. I know you'll look after the twins because I can't. Not until Ope comes to his senses. Maybe you can talk some sense into that thick skull of his."

Jolene was fuming as she watched the older woman walk out of her classroom. She had tried just that and had failed miserably.

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

* * *

Jolene strode into the Clubhouse and right into Jax's open arms. "Baby," She moaned into his kutte. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"You heard, huh?" Jax pressed a kiss against her sweet-smelling hair as he hugged her to his body.

"From Mary," Jolene responded, finally pulling far enough away to look up at Jax. "She came to see me during my free period and ruined the rest of my day. I'm trying really hard to mind my bee's wax, baby, but I saw Opie's bike outside. You're gonna have to kiss me stupid to keep me from running my mouth."

"I can do one better." Jax flashed her a leering grin as he nudged his head towards the hall leading to the dorms.

With her mood abruptly lifted, Jolene smiled. "Well, since you're offering." She replied as Jax leaned into her and covered her mouth with his.

Suddenly, someone was clearing their throat rather loudly from the Clubhouse entrance. Breaking apart from each other, Jolene looked over her shoulder to find Opie standing there.

"Can we talk _before_ your old man drags you off to his lair?" He asked teasingly.

Looking back to Jax, Jolene swallowed the lump in her throat as he nodded. "Use the Chapel." Jax offered as he let go of his wife's waist and gently pushed her in that direction.

Jax raised an eyebrow at Opie as he was about to follow Jolene into the Chapel. "Don't worry, bro. I won't say anything that will require you punching my lights out again." Opie assured his friend.

Jax chuckled. "I'm more worried about you. I didn't get the chance to pat her down for a weapon."

Entering the room, Opie closed the doors behind him. Turning to face Jolene, he almost laughed. Her face looked pinched, like she was biting the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from talking.

"I kinda overheard that Mary went to see you today." Opie started and Jolene nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. "Before we get to that, Jo, I wanna apologize for being such an asshole yesterday. I know how much you love the kids—"

"And you, Ope." Jolene interrupted. "I love you too."

Opie nodded. "I know and I love you right back, PITA." He stated, calling her an acronym for "Pain In The Ass". Before he knew it, Jolene was charging forward and into his arms, hugging him within an inch of his life. Hugging her back, Opie dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "I know you love us and I know how much you and Donna loved each other. I had no right to talk to you the way I did when all you were doing was looking out for your family. Besides, I should know better than to tell a SAMCRO woman to mind her own business." He smiled as he felt Jolene's slight shoulders shake with laughter.

Pulling out of his embrace, Jolene looked up to the big man. "I'm sorry, too. Not for butting into your business, though." She smiled. "My approach could've used a little tweaking, some refinement, but I was always gonna tell you how I felt about you and, and—"

"Lyla." Opie finished for her, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yeah, _her_." Jolene nodded. "You've been avoiding me, Ope and all this tension I felt between us just kept building over weeks and weeks. I wasn't sure anymore if you were just trying to avoid talking about going on your walkabout or if in some way you blamed me for what happened to D."

Opie's heart tightened in his chest as he used his thumb to wipe the lone tear that fell down her cheek. "In my mind, I blamed a lot of people, Jo." He admitted. "With myself at the top of that list, but never you. You, and I'm ashamed of myself for even feeling this way, I resented because even after all the shit you've been through, you were still alive and with your old man. My wife, who was never sick a day in her life, gets taken out by motorcycle. She died instantly, denying me the opportunity to hope that she might somehow make it." Opie was openly weeping now as was Jolene. "My shame kept me from talking to you. You've done so much for me and the kids since Donna died and all I could do was resent you for it. I am so sorry, Jo."

"It's okay." Jolene wrapped her arms around his mid-section again. Pressing her face against his kutte, she allowed Opie his time to cry on her shoulder, so to speak as her shoulders were way below his armpits. "Are we okay now?" Jolene almost whispered.

"Are we?" Pulling away, Opie wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. "Mary told you Lyla moved in." It wasn't a question.

"She also said you told her it was temporary." Jolene replied.

Opie shrugged his shoulders. "I really like her, Jo. In spite of what she does for a living, I really see myself quite possibly building something with her."

Jolene fought her desperate need to let her eyes roll to the back of her head. Instead, she asked, "How are Kenny and Ellie dealing? I mean, it's only been five months, Ope." Their father may be ready to move on, but Jolene was willing to bet that the kids were not too keen on another woman moving into their mother's home.

"They'll come around eventually."

 _You hope_ , Jolene thought bitterly, but kept her game face on. Sometimes you just had to let the men in your life go and totally screw up before they finally saw the light. Jolene only wished that the kids suffered very little in the interim.

"You should really give yourself a chance to get to know her, Jo." Opie suggested hopefully as Jolene almost swallowed her tongue. "She could learn a lot from you and Gemma."

_Yeah, right. Lesson one: a blowjob does not equal a handshake._

"I want nothing more than to be able to support you in your pursuit of happiness, Ope, but D and I were really close. It's gonna take me a little longer than five months to come to terms with losing her." Jolene replied honestly.

"I'm not asking you to replace her with Lyla, Jolene."

Jolene nodded. "I understand that. I just need time, okay?" She asked and Opie nodded.

 _Time for what, I don't know_ , Jolene thought. _No one will ever be fit enough to stand in for Donna in this family or in my heart_.

* * *

Having refused to apologize to Mary Winston, Helen Lerner had found herself living on the periphery of the Winston universe since her son-in-law had returned to Charming, an unwelcomed presence in their lives they would rather do without. As a result, Helen had no choice but to keep a low profile, hoping that her son-in-law, who had been so rude to her in defense of "Grand Mary", would eventually soften towards her. In reality, now that he was living under the same roof as his mother, Helen was hoping that Opie would come to his senses about just how unsuitable Mary was for taking care of _her_ grandchildren.

In her mind, it was clear that it was up to her and Bob to ensure that her motherless grandchildren didn't grow up to become complete heathens. If she didn't step in soon to handle their emotional and physical well-being, Eleanor and Harold could end up falling into the vicious little cycle of self-destructive behavior, eventually enslaving themselves to that same disgusting group of biker trash that had ensnared her daughter.

Now in hindsight, Helen's greatest regret was that she had not taken a proactive stance sooner.

Having restricted herself to weekly phone calls with her grandchildren, Helen had been lulled into thinking that all was fine in the Winston household. With Eleanor and Harold spending a lot of time on the phone with their grandfather, Helen had a difficult time getting any real information out of them during their conversations.

However, one such phone call, made just yesterday, had finally pushed her into paying her grandchildren a visit just to see with her own eyes what in the world was really going on. After much prompting and digging, her grandson had exasperatedly told her that his Grand Mary had moved back to her house in Galt over two weeks ago and that they now had a friend of his father and her son staying with them.

It was this "her" that had lit a fire under the older woman.

 _With Donna not even dead a year, he already has some piece of trash living in her house_ , Helen thought angrily.

Knowing just how sordid a bunch these bikers were, despite her husband's insistence that she stay out of it, Helen had practically jumped into her car and headed over to the house.

After the doorbell had gone unanswered, seeing an unfamiliar white Prius parked in the driveway, Helen started pounding on the door. When the door finally flew open, she suddenly wished she had not been so insistent on getting a response. Allowing her eyes to travel up and down the scantily clad woman standing in the doorway, she swallowed a little gasp, unable to fathom why any decent woman would answer the door in her underwear.

 _That's because a decent woman wouldn't. This here is a little hussy_.

"May I help you?" Lyla asked softly, still groggy with sleep even though it was almost 2:00 in the afternoon.

"You can start by telling me who you are, young lady." Helen ordered distastefully.

Perched in the doorway wearing nothing but a cropped tank top and a tiny pair of black hot pants, Lyla crossed her arms under her chest and frowned. Looking at the tyrant of a woman facing her, Lyla was hard pressed not to slam the door in her face. She had met her kind before and didn't have much love for them.

Lyla wasn't one to be ashamed of the choices she made in her life. Good, bad or indifferent, she did what she needed to do to survive and it had shaped her into the person she was today. There were always those, however, who were more than ready to look down their noses at her. Most of them were hypocrites, men who secretly wished they could fuck her and women who wished they could be her.

Staring down the uptight old bitch on her doorstep, Lyla regretted opening the door in the first place. Technically, she should have been working, but with one of her co-stars in her current film hospitalized with appendicitis, shooting had been postponed. As it was still early enough in production, Dondo had decided to recast the role and would spend the day working with the Producer trying to find viable candidates. There had been no point in going into the studio, but now Lyla wished she had.

"Who's asking?" Lyla replied in an angry tone.

Helen drew herself up to her full 5'2 inches. "It's not your concern who I am." She replied coldly. "You, however, should put some clothes on immediately before Eleanor and Harold get home from school. Only a streetwalker would answer the door dressed like that."

Lyla laughed out loud. "Honey, I sincerely doubt that a streetwalker can afford La Perla." She made a show of fingering her bra strap through her cropped top. "As a porn star, however, it's part of my wardrobe."

Seeing the color drain from the woman's face, Lyla smiled gleefully as she delicately swiped at the white residue clinging to her nostrils. "A, a what did you say?" Helen stuttered.

"Come inside and I'll show you." She replied wickedly. "After all, girl-on-girl is what I'm known for."

"Oh. My. God." Helen was apoplectic. "What sort of degenerate does my son-in-law have living in the same home as my grandchildren?!"

Still a little groggy and high, it took Lyla almost half a minute to process what the woman was saying. Suddenly, it was Lyla's turn to grow pale and somewhat weak-kneed. "Oh, oh, crap!" Lyla covered her mouth. "You're his late wife's mother."

Quickly regaining her composure at the sight of the clearly startled and upset young woman, Helen smirked with self-satisfaction. "My name is Helen Lerner, dear." She said with condescension. "Make sure you let Opie know that I stopped by for a visit." Turning on her heel, Helen marched triumphantly down the walkway to her car.

_I've got the son of a bitch now!_


	13. The Shit Hits the Fan

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Pulling into the T-M lot, Opie was somewhat disappointed with himself that, after three days on the road, he had been unable to come up with a solution to his Lyla dilemma that wouldn't result in hurt feelings. He had hoped that the run to transport SAMTAZ's monthly standing order would help in clearing the fog enveloping his mind, but like with a lot of things as of late, he had been wrong about that as well.

Ever since Lyla's epic blowout with Helen, and even though it was the nature of the beast known as his mother-in-law, Helen had been extremely uncooperative, refusing to meet Opie halfway. Although he couldn't really blame the angry woman for being upset, she had refused to accept any of his calls to try and set matters straight between them and to apologize for the way Lyla had spoken to her. The next step, Opie had determined, was to go over and meet with Helen face-to-face, whether she liked it or not, and settle matters like two grown adults should. Unfortunately, his run to Tucson had been on tap since before the disastrous meeting of the two women and as VP he had no choice but to step up and handle his shit. Besides, Opie knew that getting some distance between himself and Lyla might work to give him the perspective the situation demanded, which, as much as Opie hated being proven wrong, would allow him to do what was best for his children.

After what had happened between Lyla and Helen, Opie knew there was no way he could go on the run with Jax and several other brothers and leave his kids with Lyla. Thinking that he was in store for a lot of finger-wagging and I-told-you-so's, Opie had swallowed his pride and asked Jolene if she would watch his kids for him. Like the classy lady she was, Jolene had graciously agreed to take in her niece and nephew, never questioning why they couldn't stay at home with the "good mom" he had claimed Lyla to be.

The truth was that Opie was starting to realize just what an asshole he had been and was now having a multitude of second thoughts when it came to Lyla Dean. Like Jax had tried to convince him, he was slowly coming to understand that banging a porn star and living with one were two entirely different things. In his feeble attempt to recreate and restore the family he once had with Donna, he had jumped the gun too quickly with Lyla by installing her and her son in his home.

 _Buyer's remorse_ , his best friend had said, _was the mother of all fuck-ups_. "Nothing good ever comes from moving too fast with a woman, Ope. I'm not saying that it needs to take years and years like it did with me and Jo, but at least know what you're getting into before you shake hands on a deal. If you don't, take it from me, you're just gonna end up doing the self-loathing shit once you get that shiny new cage home only to realize you just bought a fuckin' lemon."

Lyla's behavior when he confronted her about the showdown with Helen had been erratic and somewhat wild. While Opie could understand her being upset—anybody would lose their shit when pressed by an unrelenting shrew like Helen Lerner—Opie was afraid that the meltdown had been due less to the confrontation itself and more likely because Lyla may have been high.

Although she denied it, Opie knew the signs to look for and they were all there, including the red, glassy eyes and the constantly runny nose. Seeing the coke vials scattered among her son's toys had been a memory he had tried to suppress by giving Lyla the benefit of the doubt. Opie could no longer do that because, as his know-it-all faux-sister had predicted, doing so would have a detrimental effect on his children. The thought alone that she might be using was enough to prompt him to have Kenny and Ellie stay with Jolene.

Getting off his ride, he followed Jax and his brothers into the Clubhouse. All he wanted was a shower and a good stiff drink before he went by the Teller home to check on his kids. Heading towards the bar, he spotted Bobby with a shot glass in one hand and a piece of warm banana bread in the other.

"Damn, that looks like a plan right there, brother. Why don't you hook me up with a little bit of both?"

"Hey, Ope. How ya holdin' up?" Bobby put down his glass and banana bread to give his brother a hug.

It wasn't Bobby's usual greeting for the big brawny biker and Opie eyed him as he pulled away. "I'm fine. How are _you_?"

Bobby's eyes shifted slightly and Opie knew that something was up. "I'm good, I'm good. Wish I could say the same about the Club, though."

The Secretary-slash-Treasurer of the Club had not been looking forward to this moment. He was about to lay some heavy shit down that would probably—no, definitely—not go down well at all, but he also realized that maybe it might be for the best, all things considered.

By this time Jax, having poured himself a shot of whiskey, had focused on both of his brothers. "Aw, fuck. What happened?"

Bobby hedged a bit. "Maybe we should go into the Chapel and have a talk."

"Club business," His President eyed him. "Or family-related?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "A little of both." And with that, the three men settled down in the Chapel.

"Just spit it out, bro. What's going on?" Jax asked.

Bobby sat back in his chair. "You know that hotel out on 580? The new high falutin' gig that opened up a few months ago?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with us?" Jax wrinkled his brow.

"Well, apparently it's totally high-end and a hotspot for foreign businessmen. Two nights ago there was a raid. Some party in the penthouse suite got out of hand and the cops were called."

"And?" Opie asked.

"And a bunch of people were arrested," Bobby eyed his brother. "Including our Cara Cara It Girl, Lyla Dean."

"The fuck you say!" Opie growled.

"I'm sorry, brother, but it's the truth."

"So, what, it was just some wild party, right?" Opie blustered.

Bobby shook his head. "I'm afraid it was something a bit more serious than that, Ope. I mean, both you and Jax know the porn business as well as I do. You know that making movies isn't the only source of income for most of these girls. Hell, I've booked some of these private parties myself for the ones looking to make big money for a night's work. It's mostly for foreign businessmen with deep pockets looking to fulfill porn star fetishes and these bitches don't just stop by to have a friendly drink. They're there to work. And so was Lyla. With you out of town, she called me to bail her out on some charges, including prostitution."

 _Oh shit_ , Jax thought grimly as he watched his friend's angry face.

"Turning tricks is a misdemeanor. She'll probably get off with probation. It's the other charge that may be a problem." Bobby explained.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jax asked, "What other charge?"

Bobby sighed as he ran a hand over his shaggy beard. "She was as high as a fuckin' kite and had about a ¼ ounce of coke on her. She was charged with possession and is looking at maybe doing some time."

"Are you shittin' me?!" Opie stood up and began to pace back and forth. "How could she be so fuckin' stupid?"

"This is not good, bro. With your mother-in-law on the warpath, this is the last thing you need." Jax stated. "Does my old lady know about this shit yet?"

Bobby gave Jax a "what-the-fuck-do-you-think" look. "It couldn't be helped, Jax. Kit had me and Tiki over for dinner. We were cleaning up when the call came in. She wouldn't let me bail Lyla out until she had the chance to go over to Ope's place with Tiki and get her shit out of there. Considering the shit storm with your mother-in-law, Kit wanted to get it done before the news hit the papers."

In spite of what had just hit him sideways, Opie smiled to himself. _Good lookin' out, Jo_. Opie sank back in his chair. "Where's Lyla now?"

"Back at her place in Pope." Bobby replied. "Jolene _suggested_ that it was for the best."

Jax looked over at his brother, unable to determine what thoughts were going through his mind at the moment. What Jax did know, however, was that in spite of the fucked up predicament Lyla found herself in, she had given Opie an out.

"Bro, think long and hard before you go after her." Jax suggested quietly, not quite sure how Opie had taken the news that Jolene had all but kicked Lyla out of his house.

Opie nodded solemnly. "I know."

And for the first time in a long time, he felt the first of many heavy burdens being lifted off his shoulders.

* * *

With one hairy situation put to bed, it would be almost like tempting fate by looking over your shoulder to see what kind of trouble was heading your way next. That was a lesson Jolene had learned early on and now she was determined to enjoy the hell out of the good times when they presented themselves.

Spring was just around the corner and it was starting to warm up. It was Friday afterschool and Jolene decided to bring her small army of miniature people, plus one tireless dog down to the lot for a change of scenery where they could run around, ride their bikes, and play in the small enclosed playground by the Clubhouse. As Kenny, Ellie, Abel, Maddy, and Chopper piled out of the Teller Mobile, with little TJ bringing up the rear on stubby little legs, Jax swept Jolene up for a fierce hug and a kiss. He just loved seeing her totally immerse herself in her role of wife and mother. It was the sexiest damn thing in the world.

The invasion of the back of his old lady's throat by his tongue had to be put on temporary hold, however, as Jax felt a small, but firm hand tug on the navy t-shirt underneath his kutte. Still holding Jolene up off the ground, Jax looked down and saw her doppelganger looking up at him, her little arms crossed over her chest as she tapped one sneakered foot on the blacktop.

"I wanna a hug and a kiss, too, Daddy." Maddy pouted, her blue-green eyes big and round.

"Sorry, babe," Jax smiled at Jolene. "The other love of my life is demanding equal time."

"Uh-huh, I see how it is. A new, younger model comes along and I get cast to the wayside." Jolene teased before dropping one more kiss on Jax.

"Mommy's jealous!" Maddy declared triumphantly as Jax swept her up in his arms and quickly peppered her face with kisses causing her to giggle uncontrollably.

Jolene's heart just about melted every time she saw her old man holding their daughter so lovingly. Maddy had her head on Jax's broad shoulder, her little arms barely able to wrap themselves around him. "I lub you, Daddy."

"I love you, Mad." Jax dropped a kiss on her smooth cheek, tickling Maddy with the hair on his chin. With a wink and a smile, he grabbed and pulled Jolene towards him by the waist. "I love you, too, babe."

"Ditto." She replied. Hearing her youngest screeching like a banshee, Jolene turned towards the sound and saw Opie sitting at the picnic table bouncing TJ on his knee as he sang "Horsey, Keep Your Tail Up." He had a firm hold on the baby with his two giant hands, but TJ flailed around enough to cause him to laugh by screaming at a high pitch.

"I'm not responsible if he hurls." Jolene said as she approached Opie.

TJ automatically stopped bouncing and started clapping his hands at the sight of his mother. "Ma-Ma, Ma-Ma." TJ said excitedly, kicking Opie's shin with his hard-soled walking shoes.

"Ow!" Opie winced. "Why'd you come over here and ruin our fun?"

"I didn't ruin your fun!" Jolene said defensively, catching TJ as he practically flew off of Opie's knee and into her arms.

Opie shook his head. "Mama's boy." He teased.

Jolene laughed as she took a seat next to Opie with TJ on her lap, who was now playing with her hair contentedly. "You sticking around after Church?"

"Nah," Opie replied. "I promised the kids we'd make tacos for dinner." Jolene's eyes widened as she bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I can cook, you know." Opie defended himself.

"Oh," Jolene nodded vigorously. "I'm sure you can. At least tomorrow's Saturday, you know, in case the kids come down with stomach issues." She teased.

"Shut up!" Opie elbowed her playfully.

After a few moments of silence, Jolene looked up at Opie. "Have you spoken to Mary recently?"

Opie shook his head sadly. "I'm too ashamed of myself, Jo. I said some really stupid shit to her the day she left."

"I spoke to her," Jolene announced, causing Opie's head to snap up. "Last night. Between me, Gemma, and Neeta, we try to keep tabs on her because of her health issues. She misses you, Ope, and the kids too. I'm sure she'd come back if you asked her to."

"Invite her back to the inevitable shit storm I stirred up with Helen?" Opie asked sardonically. "I can't do that to her. It's not her fault I fucked things up royally."

"Yeah, so, you fucked things up. You men have a tendency to do that shit. She's still your mom and she loves you. She wants to be there for you, Ope, but you have to make the first move." Jolene explained. "Besides, it's been over a week and you haven't heard from the monster-in-law. Maybe she's chilled out a bit."

Opie looked at his friend as if she had just lost her mind. "You do know this is Helen Lerner we're talking about, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." Jolene replied sheepishly. "I'm just trying to stay optimistic because quite frankly I don't like the alternative, Ope."

"And what's that?"

"This radio silence on her end, it's creepy. I mean I would feel a hell of a lot better had Helen just came over here and chewed your ass out because that's what she would typically do, but she hasn't. Her refusing to talk to you," Jolene sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "It has me worried. Coming face-to-face with a porn star in the home of her grandchildren may have pushed her over the edge."

"Nah, Jo. She probably just needs time and space to calm down." Opie reasoned hopefully.

Jolene eyed her friend's woeful expression. "Ope, I think time is the last thing you should be giving the Lerners. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it was already too late."

"What is this, woman's intuition? Too late for what?" Opie smirked.

"I don't know if it's intuition, but I know it's what I would do if I were her." Jolene replied cryptically.

"What?"

Jolene took a deep breath, debating whether or not saying it out loud would be a bad omen.

"Take you to court."

* * *

 _Bleh! Lodi Family Court_ , Jolene thought distastefully as she plopped herself down on the bench outside the courtroom that ran the length of the hallway. She hated this place, the scene of so many painful and difficult times for her and her family when she was a teen. Jolene looked down at the strong, manly hand sporting a wedding band on one of the long fingers intertwined with hers resting on a denim-clad thigh and smiled. She had no regrets taking a steel bat to the head of that drunk bully in Lodi so many years ago. _I'd do it all over again, too because he's so worth it_ , she looked up and into the deep blue eyes of the man she loved more than air.

"You okay, babe?" Jax asked.

Jolene started nodding, but ended up shaking her head. "Things hardly ever went my way here, Jax. Maybe I shouldn't have come today. I feel like a bad luck charm."

Jax chuckled softly before leaning towards his old lady and pressing a kiss against her temple. "You're not a teenager anymore, babe and you're certainly not a bad luck charm. You're a strong, capable woman and Ope needs you here."

Jolene took a deep breath. "I know. I just wish he didn't."

Jax squeezed her hand. "You and me both."

Both Jax and Jolene jumped out of their seats when they saw Opie and his attorney Mona Day enter the corridor. Before anyone could offer a greeting, Opie grabbed Jolene and enveloped her in a bear hug.

"Thanks for doing this, Jo." He whispered against her hair.

"Anything for you, Sasquatch." Jolene whispered back.

"We have about 15 minutes before our case is called," Mona stated. "I'd like for us to have a brief discussion before then. We can use this conference room down here." She led them to a small wood-paneled room with a round table and one window.

With everyone taking a seat, Opie rested his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the speed at which his life had turned to shit in recent weeks.

He sure as hell didn't expect to find himself here after bringing his kids home after Church that Friday three weeks ago for their highly anticipated taco night.

Kenny and Ellie had just started shredding the lettuce and chopping tomatoes as Opie, with the help of a recipe Bobby had jotted down for him on an index card, started on the meat filling when the doorbell rang. Thinking that the Tellers had changed their minds about joining them, Opie whipped off the apron Ellie had tied around his waist and headed for the front door.

He was about to tease Jolene about deciding to risk her life on his cooking when the sight of a strange man on his doorstep caused the smile to fall from his face. Even before the tall, lanky and bald-headed man in a cheap suit opened his mouth, Opie knew the unexpected nighttime visitor was a harbinger of bad news.

"Harold Kenneth Winston, Sr.?" The man asked in a phlegm-saturated voice.

"Who wants to know?" Opie asked, eyes narrowed.

"Is that you, yes or no?" The man asked irritably.

Opie nodded. "Yes." The man held out a large manila envelope, which Opie hesitated in taking.

"You've confirmed your identity, sir. You must accept service." The man informed him. Opie snatched the envelope. "Goodnight." The process server said before turning his back and heading down the walkway towards his car.

"You must accept service." Opie repeated to himself. "Shit!" Without even opening the envelope, Opie knew that, once again, his PITA was right on the money. He should learn to never question Jolene Teller. Woman's intuition or not, the woman was a fucking brain in high heels.

Pulling the legal documents out for a quick scan before his kids came looking for him, Opie got confirmation that his in-laws had just served him with a petition to Family Court for custody of Ellie and Kenny. From that moment on, Opie had been engulfed by feelings of overwhelming rage, helplessness and guilt for inflicting another heartbreaking situation on his children.

Waiting until his kids had gone to bed, Opie immediately called his President. If he had learned anything in the months since Donna's death it was that he was a complete failure in dealing with shit on his own, especially if he was too emotional. He needed the support of his family. Even before he got off the phone with Jax, Jolene had put in a call to Ally Lowen. Her specialty wasn't family law, but she knew many of the top attorneys in NorCal and wouldn't have trouble finding one for Opie and his family.

Mona Day, a cool-headed blonde in her late-40s, was Stockton's top family lawyer. With over 20 years experience, the Cornell Law School graduate was savvy and smart and, Lowen assured them, just what Opie was going to need in order to retain custody of his children. The Lerners were playing hardball, accusing Opie of abandonment and the inability of providing a stable environment due to his association with a criminal organization and persons of morally reprehensible character. They were seeking full custody and had made a request for the children to be placed in foster care until the Court had rendered a decision.

"It's all smoke and mirrors." Mona was saying. "In reality, the Lerners are the ones facing an uphill battle. It is extremely difficult for grandparents to challenge a parent for custody. The burden is on them to prove their case."

Opie closed his eyes, feeling more and more hopeless as the time to face a judge grew closer.

"Ope," Jolene grabbed his hand and squeezed. "You and your kids have been through an extremely difficult time, but in no way does that make you an unfit father."

Opie swallowed a torrent of tears. "I have made some big mistakes these past few months, and the Lerners had a front row seat to it all, Jo."

"We've all been guilty of making bad life choices and as parents we all make mistakes," Jax chimed in. "But that doesn't mean we don't love our kids and that we wouldn't do what's necessary to protect them. Your in-laws are too wrapped up in their grief and guilt over Donna to see that they are actually doing more harm than good."

"That is definitely an argument we can make." Mona stated. "Your children have suffered an incredible loss. It would be tantamount to cruelty to separate them from their father so soon after losing their mother."

"What about the three months I spent on a walkabout?" Opie asked bitterly.

"What about it? You left your children in the care of loving and responsible relatives. That so-called abandonment charge can easily be thrown out. The overall good health of your children and their school records reflect that, despite the loss this family has suffered, they've managed to continue functioning normally. My main concern lies with how low are the Lerners willing to go and, judging by the attorney they have hired, apparently they're willing to go quite low."

Jax rolled his eyes. That is not what they needed to hear literally five minutes before Ope had to go before a judge. "Who might that be?" Jax countered.

"Rick Morrell. He's a young kid who's looking to make a name for himself at a top firm out of Oakland specializing in family law. He has a reputation for doing whatever it takes to win."

"Is he as good as you?" Jolene asked.

"Nobody's as good as me." Mona allowed her eyes to twinkle. "Personally, I've yet to see him win. I've gone up against him before. Twice. And I cleaned his clock. Twice."

"But can you do it a third time?" Jax replied.

"I cannot make any promises outright, but I will tell you this." Mona started. "Any attorney worth their salt sticks to their word. I will do my damnedest to wipe that courtroom floor with both Morrell and the Lerners. I give you my word."

* * *

Seated in the row behind Opie and his counsel with Jax and Mary Winston, Jolene was smartly dressed in a simple black designer suit. Going against her love's wishes, Jolene was wearing her long curls in a chignon, which drew attention to the classic but elegant pearl earrings and perfectly matched pearl choker around her neck. She had fussed and worried about her choice of wardrobe all morning, almost convincing Jax to drive her back to Charming in order to change. Opie, the man she loved like a brother, was counting on her today and she wanted to make sure that she presented herself as a responsible, competent and fully capable adult to the Court.

Looking over at Opie, who was busy biting a thumbnail down to the quick, Jolene sighed. Biting her lip, she craned her neck in order to whisper into her old man's ear. "Ope looks really nervous."

Jax squeezed his old lady's hand reassuringly. "I can't say I blame him. How you holdin' up, darlin'?"

"I feel quite capable of barfing up a lung right about now." Jolene replied, her right leg starting to do the nervous-bouncy thing.

Jax smiled. "As long as that doesn't happen, you'll do just fine, babe."

"No promises."

Sitting next to his attorney, Opie was ramrod straight, wearing a clean white buttoned-down shirt underneath his kutte, a pair of pressed slacks completed his outfit. The only tell that he was under some serious stress was the way his hands were gripping onto the armrests of his chair.

Breaking the news to his children about their grandparent's lawsuit and his pending court date in Family Court was the hardest thing Opie had ever done. Both children had been devastated, unable to understand why their grandmother would want to tear them away from their father. Ellie had broken down, quickly retreating within herself, while Kenny did very little to hold back his anger, cursing his grandmother for constantly making their lives miserable. Jolene had suggested, and Opie had agreed, that keeping them home from school might be best and the Winston children were at this moment with Neeta in the Teller home.

Telling them about the hearing had been bad enough. Opie found himself praying for the first time in a long time that he wouldn't have to break their hearts even further by telling them they had to go into foster care.

* * *

Hearing one of the doors leading into the courtroom open, Jolene glanced over her shoulder. Literally gritting her teeth, she watched as Bob and Helen Lerner approached the Plaintiff's table and took their seats. Both were conservatively dressed, no doubt in an attempt to show up the "dirty biker gang". Bob was sporting a classic dark blue suit and tie, while Helen wore a plum-colored two-piece skirt suit. Her hair was elegantly styled and she had tiny diamond earrings sparkling in her ears. They were soon joined by a tall and expensively-dressed man who Jolene assumed was their lawyer. Attractive and clean cut, Rick Morrell appeared strong and confident in his Brook Brothers suit and Bruno Magli shoes.

Jolene was so focused on the group that she barely heard Jax's whispered epithet.

"Oh fuck no!" He exclaimed under his breath.

Startled, Jolene leaned into her husband. "Baby, what's the matter?" She whispered.

"Darlin', you're gonna have to work real hard on containing your shit, a'ight?" He whispered back as the Bailiff entered the courtroom and requested all to rise.

With Jax practically pulling her up onto her feet, she looked at him with wide eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

As the Bailiff announced the case, with the Honorable Susan Hollinger presiding, Jax clamped a hand around his old lady's wrist.

"You're about to get slapped in the face with a blast from the past, babe." Jax nodded his head to the extreme right.

Following his gaze to the row directly behind the Lerners, Jolene's eyes focused on a small, stout and heavily gray-haired woman. She literally felt the color drain from her face and her tongue go numb as the light of recognition shone on the part of her memory she had wished would have stay buried.

 _Debra-fuckin'-McAllister_.

* * *

Debra McAllister sat in grim silence as she watched the proceedings. It was a battle that the probation officer had absolutely no idea would end up being the highlight of her week.

As an officer of the court, McAllister had been responsible for working with many troubled kids that had crossed her path over the span of her 35-year career, but she also served the court as a liaison to San Joaquin's Foster Care Program, the jurisdiction of which fell squarely under the San Joaquin Family Court.

McAllister was one of several court appointed administrators who served as a point person in the processing of children into the foster care system. She was also required to work with Social Services in keeping track of all foster children assigned to her care in order to make recommendations to the Court. McAllister had always viewed that part of her job as strictly routine and not one that was of any real interest.

When she initially received the petition for custody in the case entitled _Lerner v. Winston,_ with a request for her presence at the hearing in case the children were to be transferred into foster care, she paid it very little attention. With the papers sitting on her desk for a week, McAllister hadn't bothered to read them until the morning of the hearing and had made a startling discovery.

 _After all these years_ , she had grimaced as she looked over the materials. _The Sons of Anarchy are_ _once again on my_ _doorstep_.

McAllister had never forgotten the case that she had always bitterly regretted. Jolene Morrow, the daughter of the President of the MC, had strolled into her office with all the sanguine grace of a biker princess. Extremely intelligent and very beautiful, the young woman had, in McAllister's opinion, a glorified, yet distorted view of her "family" and was unable or unwilling to see the negative influence SAMCRO had over her.

McAllister had tried appealing to the girl's obvious intelligence, but when that failed, McAllister contacted the girl's mother in Seattle and used the Court to help her get custody. Unfortunately, the girl's mother had given up custody of her daughter after only six months and Jolene Morrow was returned to her white trash family.

Still trying to get her charge to see the error of the loyalty she displayed to her family, McAllister had failed to see just how strong the family ties were. By the time she truly understood Jolene's attachment to the MC, it had been too late to recommend foster care in an attempt to keep her out of the reach of SAMCRO. In spite of all she had done, McAllister considered it a personal failure that she had been unable to save the young woman. Once Jolene had completed the terms of her probation, she all but fell off the face of the Earth, with McAllister never hearing from her again.

 _She probably ended up some dirty biker's old lady, still working in her father's garage and getting old and used up before her time_ , McAllister snorted.

But now, this new case had presented itself with SAMCRO once again in the middle of a custody dispute, giving her the opportunity to redeem her past failures. She may have been unable to save Jolene Morrow, but she wasn't about to make the same mistakes this time around.

Due to retire in about six months, the probation officer smiled to herself, determined to give Kenny and Ellie Winston the same opportunity the young woman had squandered.

The chance to save themselves.

* * *

Opie sat next to his lawyer and tried to remain calm as the piece of shit shark in a suit hired by his in-laws did his best to shred his character and degrade his ability as a father. As he listened to the vitriolic words being uttered suavely and with confidence, Opie was starting to seriously doubt whether or not he would stand a chance of keeping his kids.

_Listening to him, the Judge must think I'm a waste of human skin._

Opie managed to keep his face expressionless as Rick Morrell, the Lerners' attorney continued his attack on his character, while his in-laws sat at his side. The look on Helen Lerner's face was nearly triumphant as Morrell continued to eviscerate his character. Bob, on the other hand, whose countenance had first appeared stoic soon fell in on himself, his eyes lowered to the ground in what Opie realized was shame.

Finally, the long-winded son of a bitch concluded his remarks, making a plea for the Court to move in favor of his clients and grant the Lerners custody.

At the bench, Judge Hollister had been listening intently, using an expensive pen to take notes on the legal pad in front of her. With the exception of a raised eyebrow or two at some of Morrell's more shocking allegations, her facial expression had remained unreadable.

The 60-plus year old woman had a shock of simply styled short white hair, which against the smooth deep cocoa color of her skin, made a beautiful contrast. Judge Hollister was a known advocate of grandparents looking to assert their right to access to their grandchildren and the fact that she had been assigned to the case had filled both Opie and his best friends with dread.

Now, after she was done jotting down a couple of notes, Judge Hollister put her pen down and addressed the parties. "Is the court-appointed foster care liaison present?"

Debra McAllister took that as her cue and stood up. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Making the presumption that you have not come into my courtroom unprepared, Miss McAllister," _But why should today be any different from any other day_ , Judge Hollister asked herself sarcastically. "You have reviewed the documents filed in this case and have drafted a recommendation, yes?"

 _Just barely_ ,McAllister thought. She had all of two hours to read, review and write her recommendation regarding the foster care issue. If she had bothered to look at the file sooner, she would have seen that the case had been assigned to Judge Hollister. Maybe then McAllister would have taken the time to better prepare as Hollister had no problem calling her out on her ill-informed recommendations. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Please hand a copy over to the Bailiff." The Judge instructed and the Bailiff approached McAllister and retrieved a copy of her report.

"Briefly, please advise the Court of your recommendation."

Clearing her throat, McAllister addressed the Judge. "Your Honor, in _thoroughly_ examining the petitions and exhibits submitted, I feel that I must recommend that the children be removed from the custodial care of their father until a decision can be properly rendered by the Court. The evidence provided by the Plaintiffs speaks for itself. Their belief that their grandchildren's physical and mental well-being is in danger is compelling, founded on established facts, and should be taken seriously."

"Care to elaborate on this 'compelling' evidence, Miss McAllister?" The Judge asked.

"Well, Your Honor, the possibility of further acts of violence by the gang who initiated the attack at a local festival in their hometown, which resulted in the death of their mother, still exists. There is also the allegation that the children have been exposed to persons involved in the adult entertainment industry. Such exposure can have a detrimental impact on the emotional well-being of the minors. It is my recommendation that removal is in their best interest at this point in the matter."

"Thank you, Miss McAllister. Now, Ms. Day, if you would be so kind as to present the defendant's case." The Judge requested.

Standing up, Mona faced the bench. "Your Honor, it goes without saying that the act of ripping children away from their only remaining parent is extremely serious and not something that should be taken lightly. Harold Winston is as much a victim of the brutal slaying of his wife of 12 years, Donna Elizabeth Winston, as his children are. He was robbed not only of his wife and partner, but of the mother of his children. This loss propelled my client into a deeply emotional and depressive state caused by grief. Mr. Winston sought refuge by briefly leaving his children in an effort to cope with that grief."

The sharp sniff from the across the room interrupted Mona's recitation.

Judge Hollister eyed the Lerners' counsel. "Is there a problem, Counselor?"

Morrell quickly stood up. "No, Your Honor," He replied. "There is not."

"Then please make sure your client understands the rules of my courtroom. I will not tolerate outbursts or rude noises of any kind. Is that clear?"

Jolene had to bite the inside of her cheek in an effort to keep from making a rude noise herself as Morrell practically squirmed. "Yes, Your Honor."

The Judge nodded at Mona to continue.

"As I was saying, in no way, shape or form did my client abandon his children having provided a guardian for them in the form of Mary Winston, his mother and the children's grandmother. With regard to the allegation that the children were exposed to an individual of loose morals, my client temporarily opened his home to a friend of his son and the young boy's mother, victims of a fire in their apartment building in Pope last month. Ms. Lyla Dean and her son have since relocated to a new, more permanent shelter and have not been in the Winston home for nearly four weeks.

"I would also like to point out, Your Honor, that along with our counter-petition, we have attached as exhibits numerous references from over twenty different individuals, ranging from school officials, neighbors, doctors, and other Charming residents who all attest that Mr. Winston is a loving and supportive parent. The children are well taken care of, their doctor verifying their good health and they are students in good standing in Charming Middle School." Gesturing towards the Plaintiffs' table, Mona smiled kindly before going in for the kill. "My heart goes out to the Lerners, who have lost their only daughter at such a young age and I can certainly understand their grief. However, it is our belief that the Plaintiffs have filed this petition for custody not out of concern for the welfare of the children, but in order to make Mr. Winston pay for the death of their daughter."

"How dare you?!" Helen Lerner jumped to her feet and had to be physically dragged back down into it by her husband. "You horrible woman! How dare you insinuate that we are not concerned about their well-being?!" She raged as Mona stood silently and watched the woman's theatrics and Morrell's inability to control his client.

"Enough!" Judge Hollister banged her gavel, bringing silence to the courtroom. "Counselor, I have already warned you once. If you cannot control your client, I will have the Bailiff escort her out."

"Helen? For God's sake please be quiet." Bob Lerner urged his wife through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," Helen managed. "It won't happen again."

With a curt nod at Helen, the Judge turned her attention back to Mona. "Counselor, can you please wrap this up?"

Mona nodded. "Absolutely, Your Honor. It is obvious that the Plaintiffs' allegations lack merit and have no real basis in fact. We, therefore, ask that the Court dismiss this case in its entirety. But should the Court decide to proceed with the case and rule to have the children removed from the custody of their father and into foster care, we respectfully request that the Court order the children remanded into the custody of a willing family member." Mona concluded before sitting in her seat next to Opie.

"One moment, Your Honor." Morrell leapt to his feet. "With regards to the foster care issue, my clients would like to submit themselves as viable candidates to foster the Winston children while the Court is in the process of rendering its judgment."

The Judge was about to speak, but sighed as she looked past Morrell's shoulder. "Miss McAllister, you have something you want to share with the Court?"

McAllister took that as her cue to speak up. "Your Honor, as foster care liaison, it is my duty to remind the Court that any adult wishing to be a foster parent must be licensed and properly vetted before they can be considered as viable candidates."

"You are, indeed, correct, Miss McAllister. The law is very clear about foster parents being properly licensed to care for wards of the court, so are they?" The Judge asked.

"Are they what, Your Honor?" Morrell appeared to be confused.

"Are your clients properly licensed to serve as foster parents for the Winston children?" The Judge asked sternly.

Morrell grimaced. "I am afraid not, Your Honor."

"Well, it seems that Miss McAllister has been helpful in putting that matter to rest for me."

"Your Honor?" Mona rose from her seat. "While it is true that the Plaintiffs are unable to serve as foster parents, there is a family member that can and is more than willing to do so."

"Why am I not surprised?" The Judge rolled her eyes. "And who would this family member be and are they present?"

"She is indeed present, Your Honor. She was also a long-time friend of Donna Winston and is a surrogate aunt to the children. Her name is Jolene Teller."

* * *

 _No!_ Debra McAllister's jaw dropped, her eyes wildly rolling around the nearly empty courtroom.

As the Judge asked for the would-be foster parent to stand, McAllister's eyes widened as she took in the now grown Jolene Morrow.

 _I cannot believe this shit_ , she thought. Gone was the overtly sexy young woman and in her place was a still-sexy and beautiful, but grown and poised woman.

"Your Honor, I object." Morrell shot to his feet.

"Grounds?"

"On the grounds that this woman is not a blood relative."

Mona shot to her feet as well. "According to Sanwa law, a foster parent does not have to be a blood relative. In every way that counts, however, Mrs. Teller has been a loving and caring surrogate aunt to the Winston children and has been instrumental in helping them through their grieving process."

"Regardless of that fact," Morrell snapped at Mona. "She would still have to go through the screening process as indicated by the foster care liaison, which normally takes six weeks to be processed."

"Which is why," Mona responded sweetly. "Mrs. Teller's application was given priority status and expedited on an emergency basis." As her counterpart's jaw dropped, Mona picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk. "Your Honor, for your records, we ask to submit a copy of Mrs. Teller's foster parent application and all corresponding documents. As you will note, Your Honor, the application was approved last week."

Mona handed a copy to the Bailiff and then dropped a set on the desk of the Plaintiffs' before returning to her table. "Mrs. Teller is more than just a viable candidate. She is highly qualified. She works as a math teacher at Charming Excelsior Preparatory High School and has been given glowing recommendations by not just her Principal, but by the Director of the Sanwa School Board Patrick Doyle and a host of other respected County officials, including the former Chief of Charming Police and several City Council members.

"Mrs. Teller has both a Bachelor's and Master's Degree in Education from CSU-Stanton. As a mother of three, she is way beyond experienced in taking care of children. She and her husband have a large home which meets the standards set by the County in providing enough living space for the Winston children and a housekeeper and childcare provider on staff to provide adequate care during the hours that she is teaching. However, since Mrs. Teller and the children share similar school schedules, she will provide the majority of care afterschool and on weekends not just for her own children, but the Winston children as well. If the Court sees fit to temporarily remove the children from their father's custody, we ask that Your Honor please consider Jolene Teller as a foster parent. Kenny and Ellie Winston know and love Mrs. Teller and her family and moving them into her household will cause little to no disruption in their daily lives and routine."

McAllister was in shock, her mind refusing to register that Jolene Teller, the accomplished and successful woman standing before the Court, and Jolene Morrow, the troubled and angry young teen enamored with her white trash biker family that she remembered, were one and the same. Having been so engrossed in her agenda, the name Harold Winston failed to register with McAllister and she had never bothered to pay any attention to the small group of supporters sitting behind the Defendant table. Her eyes got even bigger as she noted the powerful man sitting next to Jolene. Time had certainly changed them both, but him McAllister remembered.

_I knew she was fuckin' her stepbrother._

Meanwhile, the Judge folded her hands together as she eyed the young woman still standing before her. "Well, Ms. Day, that was certainly fast work on your part getting Mrs. Teller approved so quickly. And you, Mrs. Teller, you are of the belief that you would be a fit foster parent to the Winston children?"

"Yes, I would, Your Honor." Jolene spoke up, her voice clear and calm. "I have been a part of their lives from the day they were born. It was their mother—my best friend—who made the ultimate sacrifice by throwing herself into the path of an oncoming vehicle in order to protect my children. It would be an honor and a privilege if you allowed me to take care of her children during this difficult time."

"Very well said. You may take your seat." The Judge said and waited for Jolene to sit down again. "This is a very difficult situation for all involved, but based on what I have heard today, I rule that this matter proceed. I ask the parties to meet and confer on a schedule for discovery and depositions and revert to me no later that the 15th of next month. As to the custody issue, Mr. Winston will retain custody of his children until next Friday when I expect to rule on the matter. And before you ask, Mr. Morrell, no further submissions to the Court are necessary." The Judge slammed down her gavel. "Court adjourned until next Friday."


	14. Taken

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

The two men were sitting in the back corner booth at Nicky's Diner. It allowed them a measure of privacy from the other customers, many of whom had eyeballed them as they walked into the diner together. It was no little secret in the town that a custody battle was taking place between the Lerners and Opie Winston and while there were some genuinely interested and sympathetic townsfolk, there were others who were hardheartedly placing bets on the outcome.

Bob Lerner had been surprised when Opie had reached out to him. He believed that the outlaw biker would have been too angry to request a meeting with him and to be honest, Bob had been a little apprehensive about it. After reflecting on his past relationship with his son-in-law, he realized that he had nothing to fear from Opie Winston.

Bob had never been in doubt about the criminal enterprise that was SAMCRO. Unlike his starry-eyed daughter, he had been well aware of the true nature of the Club. However, unlike his wife, Bob—along with other townsfolk—knew that the Club had a vested interest in keeping Charming safe. The goodwill earned by SAMCRO for keeping Charming family-friendly and virtually crime-free went a long way in having the town turn a blind eye to the known criminals living among them for so many years.

That is until one such criminal started dating his daughter.

Bob and Helen had been surprised and disappointed that their only daughter, a reasonable and level-headed girl, had gotten involved with the likes of Opie Winston. In spite of her tumultuous relationship with the biker, Donna refused to see the reasoning behind their concern as parents. After two years of defiantly pursuing the relationship, and after discovering that she was pregnant, Donna had eloped to Nevada with Opie, fearing that somehow he and Helen would interfere.

Helen was devastated and refused to speak to her daughter for months, despite the fact that Donna was expecting twins. Bob, however, had caved soon after his daughter returned to Charming. After all, Donna was daddy's girl and he loved her dearly. That love—the love that he had for her and his young grandchildren—had over time allowed Bob to come to know and love his son-in-law as well. Over the course of their twelve-year marriage, Opie had managed to make his little girl happy, which was all that really mattered to Bob.

Losing his daughter the way he had was emotionally devastating. Adding to his pain was seeing how losing Donna had impacted Opie and his grandchildren. Helen, on the other hand, refused to acknowledge that anyone's grief could ever compare to hers. Bob knew, however, that most of Helen's grief was steeped in guilt because, in spite of repeated attempts by Donna, Helen never truly allowed herself to reconcile with her daughter.

From the moment Helen had discussed her plans to sue Opie for custody with him, Bob knew it was a huge mistake. Mona Day, Opie's attorney, had hit the nail on the head. Helen had let her grief and guilt morph into some misguided need for revenge, even if she did not see it herself. Without further discussion, Helen had contacted an attorney to set in motion a petition for sole custody, declaring that if he was unwilling to save their grandchildren, then she would do it herself.

Bob had been livid and ashamed that his wife would go to such lengths. All that changed, however, the day Helen had returned from the Winston home after an angry confrontation. News that Opie had installed a porn star in his daughter's home had been the push Helen had needed to get him to see that she had been right after all.

Now, having to sit here and listen to Opie detail his grandchildren's reaction to the lawsuit and the Judge's order giving Jolene Teller temporary custody was breaking his heart. It was hearing that Kenny refused any contact with his grandparents that convinced Bob that something had to be done before the damage to his family became irreparable.

"I am so sorry that it's come to this, Opie. I honestly never thought Helen would take things this far." Bob said sincerely as he looked into the eyes of his son-in-law.

"Bob, I don't deserve to have my children ripped away from me. Something needs to be done, but I can't do it alone." Opie almost pleaded.

Bob moistened his dry lips. "I know, but Helen—she's a difficult women to reason with when she has the bit between her teeth. It's like trying to tame a wild horse without getting kicked around."

"If she's not stopped," Opie replied ominously. "She's gonna end up kicking down her own grandchildren. She's using the court to take my kids away against their will. How is that in their best interest? I am the only parent they have left. By trying to crush me, in the long run, all she's gonna accomplish is having them grow to hate her."

Bob sighed as he ran his hand through his full head of hair. "Right now, Helen can't be reasoned with." He shook his head. "She truly believes that the children will eventually get over it."

"Did Donna get over it?" Opie asked sadly. "I know how much you loved your daughter, how close you were when she was a child, but this _agenda_ Helen had against me forced her to choose. It ended up alienating her from you and her brothers and that was something she could never forgive her mother for."

Bob's eyes were moist as he swiped at his suddenly runny nose with a paper napkin. "It really hurts to hear that."

"I'm sorry," Opie said quickly. "That wasn't my intention, but it's the truth."

Bob nodded. "Oh, I know. What hurts is the fact that I let my wife drive that wedge between her own family and what for? I hadn't seen Donna in months before she died."

"She's doing it again, Bob. Only this time it's between you and Kenny and Ellie."

Bob ran his large hand over his face. "I love my grandchildren and I want them to be happy. I know they love you and the only way they will be truly happy is with their father. We have no right to take them from you, Opie. I mean, if it was a matter of you not being in a position to raise them, I wouldn't have a problem stepping in. The fact is, I'm 60 years old and I had to retire last year because my health couldn't take working at the sawmill any more. Working lumber is a young man's game and so is raising children. I know my limitations and I know that I simply cannot raise two half-grown children. I can hardly keep up with them now. To tell you the truth, neither can Helen. Her health's as bad as mine." Bob said wryly. "I do miss them, though. Where are they now?"

"Jolene took the entire brood to Chuck E. Cheese in Lodi. She said they needed cheering up. They should be back later this afternoon."

Bob waved to their server for coffee refills. After the perky server left, he straightened his shoulders. "I think the only way out of this current mess is to get Helen to drop the suit. Your lawyer seems to be on point. We weren't expecting you to bring up the issue of foster care or to have Jolene waiting in the wings to take over. Helen and our hotshot attorney thought that using the threat of foster care would cause you to cave and voluntarily give up custody. I have to say, son, I'm proud that you were ready to fight that tactic. I tried warning them that we could end up exposing the kids to a miserable situation being in the care of strangers, but she just wouldn't listen."

"Jolene's not a stranger. She's family, but I'm sure Helen still wasn't happy about her getting temporary custody." Opie commented before taking a sip of the piping hot liquid.

Bob chuckled. "No, she wasn't and I'm sure that even though you are close to the Tellers, you'd rather have them at home with you."

Opie nodded. "Yes, I would."

"Son, we have six weeks before our first pre-trial conference with the Judge." Bob replied. "I'm not gonna use that time to prepare for court. I'm gonna use it to try and convince Helen to drop the case. That's Plan A. In case Plan A fails, I have this for you." He pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table to Opie, who was looking at his father-in-law with a furrowed brow.

"What's this?" Opie asked.

"That is Plan B, a list of our current medications and health issues. Maybe your lawyer can make use of it to show that we'd be ill-equipped to handle raising two adolescent children."

Opie eyed the man with a glimmer of respect. "That's a pretty smart play, Bob. A little underhanded and cheap, but hey!" He laughed.

Bob smiled as he stood up. "I've been married to Helen for over 35 years. I've learned that sometimes the best way of dealing with the woman is by dealing around her. Besides, men who love my daughter as much as we do should stick together." He winked as he slapped a hand on his shoulder. "I'll keep in touch."

Opie watched as the stoop-shouldered older man headed toward the exit and grinned as he felt a measure of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. Now with Bob in his corner, he finally felt that he had a good chance of keeping his kids.

Unfortunately, SAMCRO was about to be dealt a blow that no one had seen coming.

* * *

The temperature, having been a mere 52 degrees at noon, had dropped into the 40s by the time the Queen of Charming exited Chuck E. Cheese with her entourage of children.

 _So much for an early spring_ , Jolene thought, carefully guiding the children through the parking lot as the three older ones boisterously talked smack to each other over the number of tickets they had collected.

It had been a long day and, even though Jolene was exhausted after running after her brat pack all day, she was happy with the outcome of their little outing. Even if for just a little while, she had managed to distract Kenny and Ellie with some fun and they had actually allowed themselves to be just kids again. They were far too young to be burdened with so much angst. Even though she agreed with Opie's decision to discuss the lawsuit with his kids as little as possible, there was just no way to avoid preparing them for the chance that they could be separated from their father. Jolene was grateful that Judge Hollinger had seen fit to grant her temporary custody, instead of placing the inseparable pair in different foster care facilities. They weren't with their father, but at least they were in the care of family who loved them.

The bright spot in this whole fiasco so far, as far as Jolene was concerned, was Helen Lerner's reaction. Through some well-placed sources, Mona heard through the grapevine that Helen had bullied her attorney into making a motion to prohibit either side from having access to the children in an effort to keep Opie away from them. A conference call with both parties and the Court had put a stop to her shenanigans, however, when the Judge revealed that she saw right through that tactic. She was starting to see the merit in the father's allegation that the Lerners had brought this suit against him solely as a means of punishment.

"Mr. Morrell, this is a childish and frivolous motion that would do more harm to the children your client is so desperate to protect. Such a motion makes me question the Plaintiffs' motives for seeking custody in the first place." Judge Hollinger chastised.

 _That had shut Helen's ass up and quick_ , Jolene gleefully recalled.

Now with both sides in serious prep mode for the custody hearing scheduled to begin in six weeks, Jolene was trying to do what she could to make life as normal as possible for her niece and nephew, hence the outing with Abel, Maddy and TJ to Chuck E. Cheese.

Even with winter winding down, it was already dark even though it was just barely past five o'clock. Having said their goodbyes to several other families who had also left the family fun time establishment, Jolene pushed the double stroller holding Maddy and an extremely talkative TJ as she headed towards the Teller Mobile, the family's large but somewhat sporty minivan at the edge of the lot, with Abel, Kenny, and Ellie walking besides her.

"Man, Aunt Jo," Kenny swaggered alongside her. "You think the Kid's gonna learn any other words beside _Mama_ anytime soon? I think Uncle Jax is getting a little jealous, and he's so frickin' loud, too."

TJ swung his head up and around as if he fully understood that he was the topic of conversation. "Mama!" He hollered at the top of his voice before scrunching his face up as he blew wet kisses at Jolene using his chubby little hand.

Jolene reached over to run her fingers through Kenny's mop of reddish blond hair before wrapping her arm around his neck, pulling him to her side in a mock choke hold as Kenny yelped in surprise. "Hey, if I remember correctly, you were a little enamored with me too when you were a baby. Used to call me _bootiful_ and had a tendency to slobber all over me, too." Jolene teased, causing the other kids to giggle as Kenny turned a bright shade of red under the lights of the parking lot. "Besides, he's a Teller-Morrow and God knows they will express themselves however they see fit." She smiled as Kenny wrapped both arms around her waist and gave her an under-the-radar squeeze. "Did you guys have fun today?"

"I had a blast, Aunt Jo. First time ever I beat both Abel and Kenny in air hockey." Ellie boasted.

"You beat me by one point!" Abel exclaimed. "And it was a lucky shot, too. I was distracted."

"Lucky my ass!" Kenny joined the fray in his sister's defense.

"Yeah, you would say that. She did beat you 13 to 6, with no chance for a comeback." Abel teased his best friend.

"Wish Dad could have been here to see it." Ellie said mostly to herself.

"Yeah, it would have been nice to have Opie with us today," Jolene sighed. "But your Dad was meeting with someone today to see if he could stop this custody mess from going any further. Him not being here was for a good cause, sweetie. He'll join us next time."

"I hope Uncle Ope can put a stop to this crap." Abel declared.

"Me, too." Ellie looked up at Jolene beseechingly. "I really don't want to live with Nana Helen. We'd probably never get to see Dad if we did."

"Shit, I'll run away first."

Jolene stopped dead in her tracks and took in the resolute expression in Kenny's face. "No you won't. All that's gonna do is bring you a whole new set of troubles. Run away one too many times, the court could end up putting you in a place worse than with Helen Lerner. You could end up in juvie and, take it from me, you don't want that and neither do I."

"You can't leave me alone with Nana, Kenny." Ellie pleaded. "Please don't."

Seeing his sister on the verge of tears, Kenny quickly shook his head. "I won't, Elle. I promise."

"Hey, besides, I thought we had made a pact to think positive." Jolene reminded them. "It may never get to that point, so let's not borrow trouble."

The suddenly subdued group had finally made it to the minivan. Using the remote on her car keys to open the doors, Jolene spent the next several minutes getting the kids buckled in as Kenny and Abel helped by storing the stroller in the back.

She was so intent in getting everyone secured for the drive back home that Jolene had absolutely no idea that they were being watched.

* * *

Jolene had just finished strapping Maddy into her car seat when she heard loud music blasting out of the open window of the car that had pulled into the empty spot next to the minivan.

Realizing that she may have been blocking the driver from exiting her car, Jolene spoke loud enough to be heard over the music. "I'll be out of your way in just a moment."

Jolene heard the passenger door open as someone stepped out. "No problem, Mami. I have plenty of room." A deep voice replied.

 _Mami?_ _Really?_ Jolene thought a little angrily. _I'm not your 'Mami'._

Suddenly, Jolene's eyes widened as she felt something hard and cold shoved into her back.

_Dear God, really? I'm gonna get mugged in front of my kids outside a Chuck E. Cheese?_

She was so totally wrong.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Abel demanded from the front passenger seat as he stared at the man standing behind his mother.

"Baby, don't say anything." Jolene replied calmly. "Look, my bag is right on the driver's seat. Just take it and go."

Just then, Jolene's heart started pounding madly in her chest as a woman suddenly appeared at Abel's door. With the light on inside the minivan, Jolene could see the gun she was pointing at her son.

"Sorry, Teller's bitch, but there ain't enough money in that bag for what I need. That's where you, me, and this gun come in, sweetheart. You're gonna help me score a really big pay-off." The man growled in her ear.

Wrenching her head to the side, Jolene was finally able to see the man's face.

 _Oh my God. Hector Salazar._ Jolene took a deep breath and willed herself not to panic. The man was desperate and capable of just about anything.

"Let her go, you piece of shit!" Kenny yelled as he jumped out of his seat in the back, intent on tackling the man. Gripping Jolene to his side, Salazar used the butt of the gun he was holding to pistol whip the young boy. The impact of the blow flung Kenny back into his seat, as blood from his split lip sprayed everywhere. Ellie, who had been sitting next to Kenny, screamed as she tried to help her brother.

Maddy, who was in her car seat in the middle row of bucket seats, started screaming as well. "Leave my Kenny alone!" She blubbered through her tears. The sudden cacophony of sobs caused TJ, who was sitting next to her, to start wailing as well.

"Stop!" Jolene screamed, desperately wanting to struggle free, but not daring to with the gun pointed at her son. "Please, they're just children. You don't have to hurt them."

 _Please, why isn't anyone helping us_? She thought, but quickly realized that the loud music coming from Salazar's car was being used to cover up the violent altercation.

"Shut up, bitch!" Luisa practically growled. "Give me the bag, you little shit." She ordered Abel, pointing to Jolene's shoulder bag on the seat. "NOW!"

Abel, who was fighting tears of anger, did as he was told and watched while Luisa pawed through the bag and retrieved Jolene's cell phone. "I got it, Papi."

"Then let's get the fuck out of here." Hector replied as he dragged his captive to the open passenger door of his car.

 _Oh, shit! Maybe now's the time to start panicking_ , Jolene thought. Once she got in that car, she knew her chances of coming out of this alive were slim to none.

"No, wait!" Jolene struggled against Salazar's tight grip. "Why are you doing this?"

Abel, having stealthily released his seat belt, suddenly launched himself at his mother's assailant, kicking and throwing punches. "Get your fuckin' hands off my mother!"

With Abel throwing himself into the fray, Jolene knew she had to do something before Salazar hurt her son. Desperately grabbing at his gun, Jolene shouted for Abel to get down.

"Luisa!" Salazar yelled as Jolene almost wrenched it out of his hand. "Get Teller's other boy! Now!"

Jolene's froze like a deer caught in the headlights as the woman pulled the sliding door open and aimed the gun at her infant son.

"Okay, okay!" Jolene loosened her death grip on Salazar's gun. Abel stopped fighting, his body sagging as he saw the Glock aimed at his crying little brother's head. "Please, don't hurt my baby."

"Okay then!" Luisa yelled. "Get in the fuckin' car or I start picking off brats, and the baby goes first."

Slowly straightening up, Jolene headed to the car, her eyes never leaving Luisa as only one thought crossed her mind.

_You are so dead, you filthy, fuckin' whore!_

As soon as Luisa dropped her hand holding the gun, Ellie sprung forward and pulled TJ out of his car seat and into her arms. Jolene's heart was breaking as the baby was wailing for his mother. "It's okay, TJ. Don't cry." Ellie was desperately rocking him back and forth.

"You see, Hector. I told you the bitch has a reputation for being a bad ass for a reason. She's gonna cause trouble, so we should take another hostage for leverage." Luisa suggested.

From the back of the car Kenny's eyes narrowed and his bright blue eyes hardened. This was getting worse with each passing minute.

"I see what you mean, baby." Hector said, wiping his hand over the small gash Jolene had opened on his cheek with the back of her head. "You," He pointed his gun at Abel. "You're Teller's oldest boy. Get your ass in the car." He put the gun to Jolene's head. "Or I kill your mom and take you anyway. Either way, I still get what I want."

Abel shuddered once and complied. "Bro, take care of Maddy and TJ." He hollered at Kenny before getting into the car. Luisa slammed the van door closed and ran to the driver's side as Salazar forced Jolene into the car at gunpoint. Climbing into the backseat, Jolene pulled Abel into her arms and squeezed him tight, raining kisses onto his blond head.

Hector leaned into minivan through the driver's side window and looked at Kenny. "You say shit about this to the cops, you won't see your friends alive again. Let Teller know that we'll be in touch."

As he jumped in the car, Luisa hit the gas and screeched out of the parking lot. Kenny jumped into the front passenger seat, trying desperately to make out the license plate number of Salazar's getaway car.

"Quick, Elle!" He ordered. "Give me the pre-pay Dad gave you."

* * *

The parking lot in front of Chuck E. Cheese was swarming with onlookers and deputies from the Sanwa Sheriff's department as Jax Teller and Opie Winston roared onto the lot with more than a dozen brothers in their wake. The sun had long since set and the scene was of one of controlled chaos as the flashing bright lights of the squad cars and the local TV news van turned night into day.

From the moment Kenny's call had come through to the Clubhouse, both Opie and Jax felt a wide range of emotions—fear, rage, anger—followed by a cold and overwhelming fury barely held in check as they raced to the scene of the kidnapping.

Hastily parking their bikes, Jax and Opie hurried towards what was the epicenter of the melee. Nearly blinded by the light of a news camera pointed in their faces, they pushed through the crush of bodies before breaking through the crime scene tape that surrounded the area around the Tellers' minivan. Followed through the crowd by Clay, Tig, Bobby, and the rest of the Club, the lifelong friends were abruptly stopped by at least a dozen officers.

"This is an active crime scene. You need to get back behind the tape!" Deputy Cane ordered.

"You're gonna have to make me, asshole, because I'm coming through!" Jax yelled with flared nostrils.

As Deputy Crane raised his hand to Jax's shoulder to push him back, both he and Opie started swinging. Suddenly, people started screaming as a sea of flying fists and bodies erupted in the middle of the crowd as the Sanwa Sheriffs tried their best to hold the Sons of Anarchy back. Opie headbutted one officer, while Jax repeatedly slammed his knee into the groin of another as they both struggled to get to the van.

"Opie! Jax! Over here!" Tig yelled after he and Happy managed to clear a path. As the two men headed in that direction, another officer jumped Jax.

"Get the fuck off me!" Jax yelled as he tried to throw off the sudden weight that had slammed into his back. Without hesitating, his SAA jumped into action, ripping the young deputy off of Jax and slamming his face into his knee. "I got this. Go!" Tig yelled.

Suddenly, the sound of Sheriff Eli Roosevelt's voice cut through the chaos. "CEASE AND DESIST THIS SHIT IMMEDIATELY!" He roared into the megaphone. "LET THE SONS THROUGH!"

It took several minutes before the scuffle died down. Finally complying with the Sheriff's order, the deputies stepped back and allowed SAMCRO through.

Jax tried heading straight to the minivan, but was stopped by Roosevelt. "Let me through or I will beat the shit out of you in front of your men."

"You can try, but it's not gonna help any of us in this situation, is it now?" Roosevelt eyed the strong biker. Seeing the anger and fear clearly reflected on his face, the Sheriff tried to be reasonable. "The kids appear to be okay, but they've locked themselves in the van and won't let anyone in." He said, turning to Opie. "Apparently, your son doesn't like talking to 'pigs'. The sooner they tell us what happened, the sooner I can get my men out there and doing their jobs. I'm letting you two through, but I'm coming with you."

Clay, who had finally managed to fight his way through the crowd, made it in time to hear Roosevelt's demand. Shoving aside a deputy, Clay demanded. "And me."

Opie nodded. "And him. He comes too." He pointed at Tig.

"Absolutely." Tig replied as he wiped deputy blood off his kutte with a bandana.

As the five men approached the van, Jax heard the locks click and the door slide open.

"Dad!" Kenny jumped out of the van and was swept into his father's bear hug. The dried blood on his face and his swollen lips nearly sent Opie over the edge.

_That little shit hurt my son!_

"Daddy! Papa!" Maddy screamed.

Jax reached in and picked up his little girl. "It's okay, Mad. Daddy's here." He whispered into her hair as his daughter wrapped her arms around his neck in a death grip, as Clay gently rubbed his granddaughter's back.

"Are you okay, son?" Opie's voice nearly broke as he softly thumbed Kenny's split lip.

"I'm okay, Dad. It's Aunt Jo and Abel I'm worried about." Kenny whispered as he eyed the Sheriff standing behind his father.

"Daddy!" Opie turned to wrap his arms around his daughter, who was cradling a sleeping TJ in her arms, and crushed her to his side.

Roosevelt stood aside and gave the men a few moments before he interrupted. "I'm sorry that I can't give you more time, but we need to talk."

"About what?" Opie demanded.

Roosevelt raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it obvious? The kidnapping of Jolene and Abel Teller. An AMBER alert for Abel has already gone wide, but a number of witnesses who saw the snatching and called it in were unable to give us a good description of the car or the kidnappers. Aside from the fact that they were a man and a woman, quite possibly armed, we have little else to go on. I know they've been through a lot today already, but your kids had a front row seat to the snatching and right now they're our only viable witnesses."

Jax eyed the Sheriff. "We need a minute with our kids. Alone."

Roosevelt waved his hand and his deputies backed off while the Sons and the children pulled closer to the minivan.

"Kenny," Opie said quietly. "Tell us what happened."

Kenny looked up at his father with wide, frightened eyes. "You won't tell the cops? He said he'd kill them if we talked to the cops."

Jax swallowed hard. "Just tell us what you know, son. We won't tell the cops."

Kenny nodded. "It was Hector Salazar and the woman must have been his old lady." He whispered. "He took Aunt Jo's phone and said that he would be in touch. Please don't tell the cops. He's gonna kill them."

"Baby girl," Clay whispered, his heart aching with fear for his daughter and grandson. "That piece of shit is gonna burn for this. I promise." He growled.

"That's not all, Dad," Ellie said in a hushed tone. "Give him the paper, Kenny."

Kenny discreetly dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I got most of the license plate. It was a red Thunderbird, I think maybe a '94 or '95. I really don't know cages like Abel does." Kenny's voice trembled.

"You did great, Kenny." Jax palmed the note. "Look, we're gonna fob off the cops and get you guys home. Then we're gonna find those pieces of shit and make them pay. You believe me?"

Kenny nodded assertively. "I believe my President."

"Good boy." Jax managed a smile, before looking up at Opie. It was as if they were both thinking the same thought.

_We're gonna rip Salazar and his bitch into fuckin' pieces!_

"Everybody, get back in the van. Tig, I want you and Juice driving the kids back. We'll get a couple of Prospects to come back with a flatbed for your rides."

"No problem, Prez."

Sheriff Roosevelt seeing that the children were being loaded back into the van started walking towards the SAMCRO Prez and VP. "What the hell is going on, Jax?"

"We're taking the kids home." Jax replied as he finished buckling Maddy into her car seat. "They've had enough for one night. They were scared shitless and really don't have any information to add to what you already know. We'll take it from here."

"That's not the way it works, Jax and that's _not_ the way it's gonna happen." Roosevelt crossed his arms over his chest, but Jax wasn't listening. He had already turned his attention to getting back on his bike. The Sheriff sprinted to catch up to the biker as he quickly swaggered through the crowd. "The Feds are on their way and they want access to the children as eyewitnesses."

" _That's_ not gonna happen." Jax replied adamantly. Suddenly, realizing what it meant when the federal government got involved in a case like this, Jax stopped abruptly and turned on Roosevelt. "The Feds only get involved in kidnappings that cross state lines. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Stopping short, Roosevelt walked right into Jax. Taking a step back, the Sheriff shook his head. "I didn't call this in to the Feds. They must have picked it up on the wire and they contacted me. I have no choice but to relinquish jurisdiction when they finally show up."

"Who's _they_?" Opie asked. "ATF?"

"FBI." Roosevelt replied.

Jax ran his hand over the hair on his chin. He needed to get his kids back to Charming as soon as possible and then head to the Clubhouse to brainstorm with his brothers. He needed to find the rest of his family. He wasn't going to stop until he did. "Well, I'm not relinquishing jurisdiction of my kids to no one." He and Opie turned to head to their bikes once again.

"I'm afraid you might not have a choice in the matter, Jax. In the case where the custodial guardian is not present, Child Protective Services can appoint an interim guardian, who then would allow me access to question a minor."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm their custodial guardian and I'm right here and not going anywhere. You can't talk to my kids without my permission." Jax said angrily.

"You're right, I can't. But Ellie and Kenny Winston's custodial guardian, Jolene Teller, is missing and I've already put a call into CPS as I am required to do." Roosevelt said quietly.

The silent rage that Opie had been able to suppress all these months finally exploded. "You fuckin' piece of shit!" He raged, lunging for Roosevelt's throat. It took Clay, Bobby, and Happy to hold him back.

"I'm sorry, Opie. I really am," Roosevelt looked genuinely upset as he gestured to two female officers. "But I have no choice."

"Man, no. Don't do this to him. Not now." Jax pleaded.

Breaking free from his brothers' grasp, Opie made a run for the van. Unfortunately, after the earlier altercation, more deputies had been dispatched to the scene and they quickly formed a wall around Jax and Opie as several others surrounded the van.

Seeing the commotion and acting purely on instinct, Tig started up the minivan and attempted to pull out of the lot, only to be thwarted when a deputy shoved his weapon into Tig's neck through the open driver's side window. "Don't even think about it, asshole!" The deputy barked as he pulled open the door and two other deputies dragged the SAA out and threw him up against the hood.

As the doors of the van were forced open, one of the female officers gestured to the Winston children, who were huddled together in the back, Kenny with his arm wrapped around his sister protectively. "C'mon, sweetheart. You have to come with me."

"I don't have to do shit!" Kenny shouted angrily.

"It's better for your dad and his friend if you come along willingly. If we do this by force, it could get ugly and they'll end up in County." The officer explained. "You don't want that, do you?"

Kenny looked out the van's window and saw his father and his uncle desperately trying to get to them and on the verge of punching out some pigs.

"Shit!" Kenny moaned.

"What are we gonna do?" Ellie whispered brokenly.

"Looks like we have no choice." Kenny replied. "Listen to me, Elle. No matter what happens, no matter what anybody says, you don't talk to anybody, understand?"

Ellie nodded as tears started to roll down her flushed cheeks. "Okay." Her voice quivered.

Stepping out of the van the two children found themselves being led to a large white van that had pulled up in front of the Tellers' minivan.

Seeing his children being placed in the nondescript van, Opie felt a burst of adrenaline as he suddenly shoved his way through the deputies. Three of them tackled him, but he flung them off as if they were rag dolls and threw himself at the van.

"It's going to okay, baby." He pleaded with his crying daughter and son through the closed window. "I promise you, I'm gonna get you back, so stay strong for me, okay?" Opie found himself being pulled away again as the van backed up and turned, heading for the strip mall exit.

Opie let out an agonized roar of anger and pain as he watched his children being taken farther and farther away. With tears unabashedly streaming down his face, Opie found himself wrapped in a bear hug. "We're gonna get them back, bro." Jax said urgently. He was hanging by a thread himself. His old lady and son had been taken by a man desperate to stay alive. His bloodlust was so great that Jax could taste Salazar's blood in his mouth. "You hear me? We're gonna get them _all_ back."

 _Alive_ , Jax left unsaid.

* * *

 _Luisa drives like a fuckin' lunatic_ , Hector Salazar thought.

That's why once they had hit the more crowded streets of Lodi, he had her stop the car so that he could take over. He couldn't think straight with her crazy ass at the wheel. Now, as he drove the speed limit while constantly looking over his shoulder, Hector was finally able to think over and consider his options.

Hector was so impressed with himself, he couldn't help but smile. He had pulled off a successful kidnapping of not only the old lady of the SOA National President, but his son as well. And he had done it without his crew for back up. If that didn't put him in the same class as Al Capone or John Gotti, he didn't know what would. He had Jax Teller by the fucking short hairs. Now the arrogant little prick would have no choice but to show him the respect he deserved or he would have no chance of ever seeing his bitch or his brat breathing again.

All he needed to do now was make some adjustments in his plans before giving the SAMCRO President a call.

Hector was desperate. It had been nearly six months since he had been stripped of his patch and his Club and had been forced to go on the run. It had taken him a while to come up with a viable plan and, once he did, it had required that he and Luisa stay local, but well-hidden before he was ready to make his move. As if staying alive wasn't hard enough, he had to find creative ways to gather the Intel and do the surveillance he needed in order to successfully execute his plan. It had been a gamble, but with so much time having passed, the authorities had started to believe that the trail had gone cold. That they were either already dead or out of the country. If he was fortunate, SAMCRO and the Mayans would come to believe the same shit.

Living underground as fugitives wasn't at all glamorous and it was far from easy, especially since the money he had been able to stash away was slowly running out. And living day in and day out in close quarters with his old lady was about to drive him apeshit. She was so relentless and demanding that Hector didn't mind taking risks by leaving their hideout for long periods of time to track Teller's old lady. Actually, he had gotten quite good at shadowing the bitch, getting her movements down perfectly. He had also honed his boosting skills by stealing and abandoning a number of cars so that she had no chance of suspecting that she was being followed.

Of the million different scenarios he had planned for, however, not one included making the snatch while she was with her kids. Having followed the woman to Chuck E. Cheese, Hector realized too late that she had a shitload of brats with her and was about to postpone the plan for another day, until he made the mistake of calling Luisa. Already suffering from cabin fever, she couldn't stand the thought that it could be weeks before Hector felt comfortable enough again to put the plan in motion.

Ditching the car he had stolen, Salazar had picked Luisa up in her cousin's car and had driven back, parking across the street from the strip mall. Even though he was a little apprehensive as they staked out the minivan, Salazar was glad he decided to listen to his old lady. She had been right on two counts. Taking her while she was with her kids would guarantee her compliance and taking one of Teller's sons was a good way of keeping the bitch in line. Apparently, Teller's old lady had a reputation for being a fighter. Having watched her for weeks, Salazar couldn't see anything but a hot piece of ass. Either way, Salazar was about ready to make the call that would net him a shitload of money that would enable him and his old lady to get the fuck out of Dodge.

Jolene's voice interrupted his musings. "You know my old man is going to fuckin' kill you and your whore, right?"

Hector eyed the angry woman in the mirror and smiled. _I have to say, Teller has good taste_.

"Oh, I don't think so, puta. You see, I hold all the cards. If your old man wants you back in one piece, he's gonna have to play by my rules. We both know that SAMCRO has a lot of fuckin' money and that means he's gonna pay me what I want." Hector grinned. "But nothing says I have to send you back to him looking so nice and tight, so you better shut the fuck up before I let my old lady carve up that pretty little face of yours."

"You're not fuckin' TOUCHING my mother!" Abel yelled.

"Luisa, sounds like this little shit here thinks he's as tough as his old man." Hector laughed. "Maybe he's gonna be more trouble than he's worth."

"I don't think so, Papi." Luisa chuckled. "But now that we got away clean, we only really need one of them. The bitch might give us some trouble, but a little kid like him we can handle. We'd probably get more money for the son than for his whore, anyway."

"No!" Abel brushed away an errant tear. "My Dad will give you a lot of money for the two of us. Please don't hurt my mom." He pleaded and Jolene pulled her brave little man into her arms again as he broke down.

"Hmm, I don't know about that." Hector considered, once again realizing that Luisa made a lot of sense. "We need to get them out of sight while I think about it. Luisa, get the hoods on 'em. I'm gonna make the call soon."

* * *

Sitting at head of the table, Jax tried to sort through all of the voices and conversations going on among his brothers as they tried to figure out their next move in the hopes of drowning out the noise in his head. He had already smoked through an entire pack of cigarettes and his throat was killing him. What he needed and wanted—besides his old lady and his son back—was a bottle of Jack, but Bobby had been right to yank it out of his hand as soon as they entered the Clubhouse. Jax needed to keep a clear head. There would be plenty of time for breaking down later—after he had the rest of his family back.

Having left the scene of the kidnapping, the Club had made quick time back to Charming. Jax headed straight home with his children for a bittersweet and tearful reunion with Gemma and Neeta. Having left his house surrounded by patches, Jax, Opie and the Club had headed back to the lot.

Jax raised his voice to be heard above the fray. "Juice, you have anything yet?"

"I'm in." Juice replied as he continued tapping away on his laptop. "Hacking into the DMV was a bitch, but now I'm generating a list using the partial plate Kenny was able to make out. I don't think it's going to be much help though."

"Why not?" Filthy Phil asked.

"It was probably a stolen ride," Happy replied in his gravelly voice. "And even if it wasn't, they probably ditched it by now."

"Even so, it's our only lead right now, so we follow it." Jax looked up as his father-in-law entered the room. "Did you get a hold of Lowen?"

Clay sat down in his seat and addressed the table. "Yeah and it ain't good. She spoke to that family lawyer." He looked at Opie. "It's not likely that you're gonna get the kids released anytime soon. And they're being separated."

Shouts of "WTF?" could be heard all over the room. "Where are they?" Opie barked.

"They're both still in the custody of CPS officers, but they were taken to the Fed office in Stockton for an interview with the FBI. That Mona dame is on the scene, but she won't be allowed access. All she knows is that neither of them are cooperating. Eventually, they'll be transferred to separate foster care facilities, one for boys and one for girls."

"Have the Lerners showed up yet?" Opie grimaced.

"That's the only silver lining in this shit storm cloud." Clay started. "They have yet to make an appearance, but that shit can change the minute they turn on the ten o'clock news. Once the word is out that Jolene is missing, Mona says that it's likely that the Lerners will move for custody."

"Shit," Opie ran his hands through his hair. "What are we gonna do?"

"Everything and anything we have to, bro." Jax assured him.

There was a sudden and urgent banging on the Chapel doors. Tig got up and opened the door to reveal Tiki.

"What do you want, shithead?" Tig groused at his Prospect.

"Jax." Tiki replied anxiously. "You have a call on the bar phone. It's Sheriff Roosevelt."

Jax stood up and headed for the Main Room, his brothers following behind him. Grabbing the phone from the bar top, he barked into the receiver. "What?"

" _Jax, I need you to meet me right now. We might have a possible lead."_

"Why do I have to meet you? Can't you just tell me over the phone? Have you found my wife?" Jax felt a sudden shiver of anxiety run down his back.

_He heard the man sigh. "Look, man, I might need you to make an identification and that's all I'm going to tell you over the phone. You need to get down here right now."_

Jax swallowed the lump in his throat. "Where?"

" _The exit off I-18 right outside Lodi. There's an orange grove right off of it. You know where I'm talking about?"_

"Yeah, I know where it is. We'll be there in 20." Jax hung up and ran his hand over his face.

Opie placed a hand on his arm. "What's going on, brother?"

Jax looked at Opie for a long time with a clenched jaw. "Let's ride."

_And pray that we're not too late._

* * *

Eli was standing by his squad car. Seeing his breath in front of him, he swore under his breath at the cold which was seeping into his bones, making him shiver in spite of the warmth of his leather bomber jacket. He had forgotten his gloves and had shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

Running one hand over his bare, gleaming skull, he wondered just how much more fucked up could this day possibly get. He eyed the three black sedans and the mortuary van parked on the side of the road as the Medical Examiner worked over the victim currently lying on the shoulder to the side of a red sports car. Roosevelt sighed as he thought about what would happen once Jax Teller arrived, coming to the conclusion that it was entirely possible that the situation could quickly escalate out of control.

He looked up as a young deputy sheriff, Mitchell Cane, approached him. "Those FBI guys are a pain in the ass. They don't want us doing shit that doesn't involve fetching them coffee."

"That's how they operate. Now that they're on this, there's nothing we can do but be their errand boy-bitches."

"Well, that Special Agent Matthews is a pompous little prick and he can lick my ball sac." Cane replied. He was about to say more when both men heard it, the loud rumble announcing a cavalcade of motorcycles about to descent on the them. "Fuck!" Cane breathed. "It's gonna jump off out here again and we don't have nearly enough guys to contain this shit if it goes south. We should have pulled in some of those assholes when we had the chance back in Lodi. They did assault officers."

"And that's what you get for not following orders. I told you to let Teller and Winston through the minute they arrived. Now stand aside and let me deal with this before I bust your ass down to parking meter duty."

Eli walked over to Jax Teller, who was removing his helmet as he got off of his bike. "What the hell's going on?" Jax looked around, his eyes wide and face pale in the flashing light of Roosevelt's squad car.

Before Eli could answer, Opie placed a hand on Jax's shoulder. "Oh shit, bro. Look over there."

Jax's eyes glittered with fear as his eyes took in the red Thunderbird parked on the side of the road. It was the large blue tarp on the ground shrouding a body that sent a spike of fear through him.

_Oh, baby, no!_

Roosevelt, seeing the biker's reaction, clamped down on him, grabbing him before he moved another step forward.

"Look, man. You got to try and hold onto your shit, you hear me?" Eli breathed into Jax's ear as he struggled against the hold on his bicep. "It's a woman. She was found about forty minutes ago by a couple of teenagers. Looks like she was shot in the head at point blank range. There's not enough of her features intact for a facial identification. I'm sorry to put you through this, but maybe there are some other identifying markers that can help in figuring out who she is. You can't touch the body, but I'm gonna take you over there. Are you alright with that?"

As Roosevelt spoke to him, Jax was in another world. Everything felt surreal, like he was having an outer body experience and for the first time in his life, he was truly trembling with fear. Nodding his head, Jax straightened his shoulders and walked behind the Sheriff, his VP following him.

 _It's not Jo. Jo's alive. It's not my old lady. Jo's_ alive, Jax kept repeating to himself like his own personal prayer.

The flood lights set up around the crime scene were so bright it almost seemed like it was daylight. The Medical Examiner stood up from his crouched position and stepped away, giving Jax a clear line of sight to the body lying on the ground.

Jax felt his gloved hands shake uncontrollably and clenched them into fists as he looked at the prone figure on the ground.

 _She's small,_ he thought as he took a deep breath. Splayed out underneath the thin tarp, Jax could make out the shapely curviness of the body. But it was his heart that was in a vise when he saw the long dark hair sticking out from underneath the edge of the sheet.

_Please, God, please._

"Are you ready, sir?" The Medical Examiner asked.

Jax swallowed and nodded, motioning to the M.E. Opie stood next to his brother, his hand on Jax's arm, his own heart in his throat.

_Please, not Jo too._

Squatting, the M.E. pulled back the tarp starting from the feet upward. Jax saw that the body was wearing a pair of black boots, dark wash skintight jeans and fitted white shirt, stained with blood. As he looked at the body, he inhaled, then exhaled, preparing himself to speak. He had to be sure.

"Can you unbutton the shirt please, from the bottom?"

The M.E. eyed the pale young man. "Son, I—"

"I need to check something to be sure. Please."

The balding gray-haired man nodded. Bending over, the M.E. obstructed Jax's view for maybe two seconds, but it felt like an eternity. As the man pulled away and squatted once again, Jax looked down at the figure and felt his knees buckle.

As Opie caught him and wrapped his arms around him, Jax felt the tears run down his face as he looked at the bare expanse of the woman's torso.

 _No crow tat_.


	15. Ransom

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Eli watched as Opie Winston and the rest of the Club surrounded Jax, forming a protective circle around their President as they watched him pull himself together. He had to admit that it was an impressive show of solidarity among the members of a criminal organization who called each other brother.

 _Having a family member make a victim identification is one of the worst aspects of this job_ , Eli thought. It was only one removed from actually standing on their doorstep and delivering the devastating news of a loved one's demise, especially if they were a victim of a violent and premature death.

"I'm really sorry I had to put you through that, Jax." Roosevelt said genuinely.

Opie gave the officer a hard look. "Maybe if you hadn't been so busy ripping my kids away, you could've spent more time working to i.d. the victim before involving Jax in the first place."

The Sheriff eyed the powerful and angry man facing him. "Bringing Jax into this situation cold was _not_ my decision to make. The FBI is now on the case, but I assure you that the Sheriff's Department has been working non-stop to find Jolene and Abel since the first call came in." Roosevelt explained, directing his comments at Jax, who seemed to have regained his composure, the steely look of determination back in his eyes.

"Is that the getaway car?" Jax asked, although he already knew the answer.

Roosevelt nodded as he ran his hand over his chin. "We canvassed the strip mall and surrounding areas and found a witness who saw a car tearing ass out of the lot at about the same time the kidnapping took place. He was able to give us a description of the vehicle and a partial plate."

"Information we could have gotten hours ago had you not provoked your children into being uncooperative. Information that we could have used to not only retrieve your family, but save an innocent woman's life as well." A voice echoed loudly behind Roosevelt. As the Sheriff stepped away, the voice, attached to a man in a dark blue suit and gray trench coat, followed by his similarly-dressed entourage, steadily approached the group of bikers.

When it came to dealing with law enforcement, rule of thumb for SAMCRO was less is more, especially when it came to the federal government. There was no love lost between the two organizations, but no one despised the Feds more than Jax Teller. Since he could remember, going back many years before his father had died, the Club has been in the crosshairs of the ATF. That, Jax had learned rather quickly, was the price for gun running. Every shipment they received from the Irish, every gun sale they made could easily translate to 25-to-life for SAMCRO. That was part of the Life they chose to live when they earned the privilege of wearing the Club's colors.

But it was the events that had come to a head three years ago that had cemented Jax's distrust and hatred for all things Fed. Coming face-to-face with an agent who had taken her quest to bring down SAMCRO a step beyond by making it personal—going after his old lady to the point where Jolene's life was once again in jeopardy—Jax had a very low tolerance for any Fed looking to bully the Club by flashing a badge.

Jax had absolutely no intention of cooperating or working with anyone from the fucking FBI. There was no way he was going to trust the lives of his family to outsiders, _especially the government_.

Uncrossing his arms, Opie seemed to grow several inches as he took a defensive stance and looked about ready to throw a punch. Jax moved forward and stepped in between his VP and the government drone.

"I don't think I like your tone, whoever-the-fuck-you-are." Jax faced off against the agent in front of him.

The agent, in his mid-30's, about 5'10, with a slim build and light brown hair styled in the latest fashion, met Jax's glare with quiet composure and little emotion. "I'm Special Agent Sean Matthews, the lead agent on this case and this is my team." He replied as he flashed his badge while pointing a thumb at the half-dozen men and women standing behind him. "And you are Jackson Teller, husband and father of the victims." It wasn't a question. Jax crossed his arms and glared at the Fed. "Let me be the first to offer my condolences—" Matthews started.

"Fuck your condolences. They're not dead." Jax shot back. "Since you're the head asshole-in-charge, I guess I have you to thank for dragging me down here."

Matthews took his time tucking his badge back into the pocket of his trench coat. "Unfortunately, it couldn't be avoided. I'm sorry if I _inconvenienced_ you by calling you down here, but you left the crime scene before my team and I arrived. Maybe if you hadn't, I could have handled things a little differently."

"So this is you teaching me a lesson?" Jax nearly growled. "I don't take kindly to being jerked around, especially when my family is in danger. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find my wife and son."

As Jax turned to head back to his bike, Agent Matthews went to make a grab for his shoulder, prompting Tig to jump in between them, pushing Agent Matthews back several steps. A mini-scuffle ensued between the two men.

"That wasn't a good idea." Tig warned the Agent.

"Neither was assaulting a federal agent." Matthews barked back.

"Whoa! Everyone, please, just relax." A petite blonde agent quickly moved to intervene.

Ignoring his colleague, Agent Matthews stalked up to Jax. "You do realize that while we are standing around pissing on each other's shoes, the persons responsible for taking your wife and son are getting farther and farther away?"

"And what the hell are you doing about it, aside from trying to stop us from leaving and doing what we have to do?" Jax glared at the pompous man.

Agent Matthews smirked and shook his head. "I know you and your crew consider yourselves a big bad biker gang, Teller. The Sons of Anarchy and their past actions are well-documented, but do you really want to add to the body count today? We already have one woman dead."

"Hey!" Clay shouted angrily. "Don't try and put that shit on us!"

"Mr. Teller," The blonde agent interrupted. "I'm Special Agent Monica Owens. On behalf of the FBI, Stockton Division, I'd like to offer you my personal assurance that we are doing everything possible to retrieve your family and bring the kidnappers to justice. Your cooperation would be extremely helpful in that regard."

"After everything the Feds have put us all through over the years, you'd do better not to expect too much of anything from SAMCRO." Bobby snarked.

"Just a few questions, then. I promise it won't take long." Agent Owens assured a clearly disbelieving Jax. "Does your wife have any enemies, past or present, that might want to do her harm?"

Jax raised a gloved hand, effectively keeping the agent from asking further questions. "Jolene is a high school math teacher, wife, mother, and friend. I think you already know the answer to that question and if you're just gonna dick me around, then I don't have time to answer anymore."

"Then let's cut to the chase." Agent Matthews spoke up. "Can you think of anyone that might want to do _you_ harm by targeting your family? Considering that your list of enemies must be a mile long, maybe we should call for a stenographer to take notes."

Almost hearing Jax's jaw click as he clenched it, his fists opening and closing at his side, Sheriff Roosevelt took a step forward. "Agent Matthews, I'm guessing that provoking a family member's anger is not in the FBI playbook when dealing with a situation such as this."

"No, but getting them to cooperate is." Agent Matthews responded.

"Maybe the better question would be," Agent Owens interjected. "Has anyone contacted you, made any demands?"

"No, not yet." Jax replied, deciding the best course of action would be to ignore Matthews. He would be of no use in trying to track down his old lady if he got locked up.

"That's good to know." Agent Matthews said. "We need to move quickly. We can start by tapping your cell phone, then move on to the SAMCRO Clubhouse, your home, etc. Once they make contact, we can ascertain that your wife and son are still alive and look at all the viable options while we try to find their location."

Jax was shaking his head slowly. "I ain't giving you permission to tap shit. First of all, there is nothing to indicate that the kidnappers have taken my family across state lines, so your involvement in this matter is a bit of a mystery to me. Call me paranoid, but I see this whole situation as a prime opportunity for you to set us up for a whole different kind of sting. You might be right about that so-called list of enemies being a mile long, but you and your buddies down at the ATF are sitting right at the top of that list. You don't give a shit about my wife or son. All you're seeing right now is an in and I'm not gonna give it to you. I'm telling you like I told Sheriff Roosevelt, I do not want or need your help, so back the fuck off." Turning, his brothers parted like the Red Sea as Jax headed back to his bike.

For a moment, Matthews was bewildered and then once again stalked after the Club President. "Excuse me, but you must be out of your fucking mind! You're willing to risk the lives of your family by dealing with this on your own because you don't trust us?" He shouted over several shoulders as Happy, Half-Sack and Juice prevented Agent Matthews from getting close to Jax.

Stopping at his bike, Jax threw on his helmet. "I wouldn't trust you to find your own ass in the dark. I'm not about to risk my family to you. I don't know you and I don't wanna know you. What I do know is that if whoever took my wife and son are desperate enough to kill an innocent woman, they're desperate enough to do anything. So hear me loud and clear. This is me telling you and your whole fuckin' FBI crew, I don't want and don't need your help, so take your asses back to Stockton."

Special Agent Matthews watched as the pissed off biker and his crew got on their rides and tore down the road.

"Shit," Owens breathed. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Matthews looked down at his partner disdainfully. "The plan hasn't fucking changed! We do what we have to." _And if that means breaking a few rules, so be it_.

With only three years under his belt, Agent Sean Matthews was already out to make a name for himself in the Bureau. His ultimate goal was Washington, DC, but getting there would be twice as hard now after being transferred to a small, backwater field office in Northern California. Matthews had been a shining star in the Oklahoma City field office until his partner, a twenty-year veteran botched a case royally. Although he wasn't held responsible for the case going south, Matthews was reprimanded for not taking the lead and, when your dream was to work in DC, you had to make a name for yourself as a leader.

This kidnapping was the first big blip on his radar since his exile to NorCal six months ago. He was sure that it would be the top story on the ten o'clock news from here to San Francisco and Agent Matthews intended to be on hand and ready to provide every sound bite possible. With any luck, the story would go national, with the _Today Show_ and _Good Morning America_ clamoring for an interview. Kidnappings very rarely ended well for the victim or their families, but if he put on a good show, his chances of coming out of this a star fared better than Jolene Teller and her son's chances of coming out of this alive.

He was one step closer to his gig in Washington, DC and he'd be damned if Jax Teller and his gang of biker thugs was the reason he didn't get there.

Waving dismissively at the body lying on the road, Matthews shouted at the M.E. "Get her bagged and tagged already! Everyone else," He motioned for his team. "Get your asses in gear. We need to move quickly and we have a shit load of work to do!"

* * *

"How are my grandkids?" Clay asked somberly as Jax walked into the Chapel and took his seat at the head of the table.

"TJ's been out like a light since we got him home. Mad," Jax swallowed the lump in his throat. "Gemma said Maddy pretty much cried herself to sleep. Ma and Neeta aren't doing much better."

A couple hours had passed since the Club had returned from their encounter with the FBI. In spite of his outlaw lifestyle, Jax had managed to retain his humanity, especially when it came to innocents. He felt horrible that a young woman had lost her life simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but when it came down to it, better a stranger he's never met than his old lady.

Jax wasn't passive and waiting around for Salazar to contact him was driving him up the wall. Needing a break, he had gone home briefly to spend some time with his kids. Even though they were both asleep, it gave him a measure of comfort knowing that they were safe under his roof. His heart ached, however, as he walked by Abel's room. He couldn't make himself look at his oldest son's empty bed. Even worse was knowing that, no matter what time he finally fell into his own, his old lady wouldn't be there waiting for him. More than likely, Jax would keep himself moving and busy until he collapsed from exhaustion because if he stopped and allowed himself to think, he would completely lose his shit and be of no good to anyone.

Now, sitting at the table, Jax called the meeting to order.

"Sack, where we at?" He asked.

"I reached out to Alvarez, Laroy, T.O., Lin, and Cacuzza," Half Sack started. "They're helping us spread the word with their crews keeping their eyes and ears open. Right now, we have every Club contact we could think of, every gangbanger, drug dealer, snitch, hustler, pimp and prostitute on the lookout for this piece of shit. That $50K bounty you're offering is a big incentive, too."

Jax nodded. While the FBI thought it had written the book on handling situations like this, in reality their chances of finding Salazar were right up there with finding a needle in a haystack. To find him, they needed to operate on the fringes of civilized society where scumbags like Salazar lived and thrived. If someone wanted to stay hidden, it would usually take an act of God—like a real talkative family member or a former partner-in-crime with a grudge—to smoke them out. An unwritten rule of the Life was to never talk to the pigs, local or federal. So even if law enforcement were offering a reward for information leading to an arrest, chances were that anyone with real information would come to SAMCRO first, knowing that they would not only pay more, but in tax-free cash. Also, having the Sons owe you a favor was another really big incentive in helping them locate the bastard. Though smaller in terms of manpower, in the underground world most criminals lived in, SAMCRO held more sway and their reach was more powerful than a bunch of X-File wanna-bes in cheap suits.

"Clay, any word on Oswald?" Jax asked as he lit up yet another cigarette.

"You just missed him. Elliot's in. He's already made arrangements with the Chairman of Charming S&L. He's ready to make a large cash withdrawal as soon as we give him the word." Clay explained.

With the Club unable to use a large portion of their unlaundered earnings, calling in a favor from Oswald was the only way to keep the Feds from getting involved. Clay had managed to negotiate a reasonable interest rate with Elliot, but even then, it was still a lot of money. Jax didn't care. All the money in the world wasn't too much to ask for if it meant getting him his old lady and son back.

"Tig," Jax looked over at his SAA. "You look like you've been thinking really hard, bro."

"Yeah, I have—"

"Did it hurt?" Filthy Phil chimed in, giving everyone a moment to laugh during a tense situation.

"This is just a thought, bro, but we've been looking for that little bastard and his bitch for months now. I think we all pretty much conceded that they would have been stupid to stay local and had left NorCal. I think we have to consider the possibility that they grabbed Doll Face and the Kid and headed right back out of town." Tig explained.

"Where to?" Opie asked.

"From what I've been able to pull together," Juice started. "Salazar has some relatives scattered around Lodi, Modesto, and as far south as Fresno. Both sides of his family come from Sonora, Mexico, where most still live."

"That's cartel country." Bobby said and quickly noticed the color drain from Jax's face. Jax closed his eyes and pinched his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"Bro, don't freak out." Happy called out to Jax. "They're still local." He said adamantly.

"How do you figure?" Clay asked, about to lose his shit himself.

"Think about it, man," Happy started. "He's close and hiding in almost plain sight. I mean, he must have been tailing your old lady for some time now. And to do so, he probably had to boost several rides. Your bitch is smart, Jax. If he hadn't changed cages, she would've have spotted a tail."

"Yeah," Opie was nodding his head. "And he dumped the red Thunderbird, what, 20-30 minutes after the snatch. I don't care how fast he was hauling ass, he was still within the Lodi city limits. Our best bet is to start beating the bushes in a ten-mile perimeter out from where he car-jacked his new ride."

"No i.d. on the victim yet? It would help to know what kind of car she had been driving." Half Sack surmised.

"No word from Roosevelt, but I could give him a call." Tig offered.

"Do that." Jax ordered and Tig jumped out of his seat and headed out to the Main Room.

"Maybe Trammel can get us a list of cars stolen and abandoned in the last two weeks in and around Lodi." Chibs suggested. "If there's a pattern, that might help us in narrowing down the search area."

Jax nodded and Chibs was the next one to head out to the Main Room to place a call. Jax reached out for the ashtray to put out his cigarette when Opie's massive hand clamped down on his forearm.

"We gonna find them, bro." Opie said confidently.

"No doubt." Jax smiled at his best friend. And he believed that they would.

Jax sat and watched as his brothers continued to analyze, build scenarios and pick them apart as each gave insight into the mind of the twisted fuck who had taken his family. It made him appreciate even more the fact that he had dedicated his life to the brotherhood.

 _The fuckin' FBI ain't shit compared to my brothers_.

"Supplies, who's in charge of pulling shit together?"

"I am." Juice replied. "I've managed to get in touch with a couple of 'friends' from my hacker days who have access to some serious spy gear. I'm talking special agent, Call of Duty-type shit, including some government-issue trackers to hide inside the money. I'm picking everything up tomorrow morning."

"Good thinking, Juicy." Clay smiled. "It's highly unlikely that Salazar is savvy enough to think we would bug the ransom. That's some sneaky shit the Feds would do and he knows enough to know that we wouldn't bring them into this."

"Speaking of the Feds, how are we gonna keep them off our ass? The Sanwa Sheriffs have been circling the block, too. I don't see that asshole backing off of this." Bobby asked.

Jax was about to reply when he felt his pre-pay go off in his kutte. Pulling it out, Clay saw the look that passed across his son's face.

"Salazar." Jax growled, seeing the picture of his beautiful old lady flash on the pre-pay's small screen as everyone at the table got quiet. "You ready?"

Juice nodded, moving his laptop into position to record the call. Jax laid the phone on the table and pressed the speaker phone.

"Teller."

" _Good. I see you've been waiting for my call." Jax could hear the asshole grinning on the other end. "This is such a nice picture you're old lady has of you on her phone. You look all happy and shit. I bet you're not smiling now, huh ese."_

"You need to get to the fuckin' point, bitch."

" _The point?" Hector taunted. "The point is, puto, that I got your old lady and your son. Looks like I had some fuckin' reach to get to your family after all. You really should have taken better care of your lady, homes. She's a really fine piece of ass. Whether she stays that way all depends on you."_

"All I know is," Jax growled. "That you return my old lady and son in the condition you took them, or there ain't no place on this earth that you'll be able to hide from me."

" _Really, 'cause, I've managed to do pretty good for the last six months." Jax heard the faintest giggle of a woman in the background._

"Is that your bitch, Hector? The one that started all this shit with a fuckin' lie? I have to say that I'm really surprised you've held onto that piece of shit." Jax prodded. "You lost a helluva lot because of her—your Club, your deal with Alvarez, whatever street cred you had—all gone. I really hope she was worth it."

 _When I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you had killed her yourself_ _,_ Jax thought grimly _._

" _Eat my shit, asshole!" Luisa screeched._

_Hector laughed. "Well, looks like my old lady ain't too fond of you either. I too hope that you think your old lady's worth the trouble, considering what you're gonna have to pay to get her and your son back. You owe me, Teller, especially after killing Pozo."_

"I'm not here to relive dead history or to take the fall for shit you and your crew brought upon yourselves. And you're not getting shit until I talk to my old lady and son first." Jax demanded.

" _Aww, what are you saying? You don't trust me? You can take my word for it, they're fine, ese."_

"I'm not about to trust the well-being of my family to a man who shot and killed an innocent woman for her car a couple of hours ago. Before we go any further, you're gonna let me hear it from them that they're okay." Jax ordered.

_There was a sudden pause. "So you know about that, huh?" Salazar boasted. "It was necessary. What's it called, collateral damage? No big deal and just a little taste of what I'm capable of . . . Okay. To get this shit moving, I'm gonna let you talk to one of them."_

Suddenly, Jax tensed as he heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

" _I could pull the trigger right now and have your old lady's pretty little face decorating my wall, but I won't. Not yet." Salazar threatened before a slight scuffle could be heard on the other end. "Come 'ere, bitch!" Jolene's yelp echoed throughout the Chapel as Jax felt his blood boil. "Your old man wants a word with you."_

" _Baby?" Jolene breathed into the phone._

The vise that had clamped down on his rapidly beating heart eased as Jax heard his wife's voice. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Hey, darlin'. You okay?"

_Jolene's voice was faint, but clear. It was her calmness more than anything that steadied him. "Abel and I are fine, baby. Don't worry." She moistened her lips. "I'm so sorry, Jax—"_

"No, babe," Jax shook his head, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. "There's nothing you need to be sorry for. You just sit tight and we're gonna get you and little man out of this, a'ight? Do you believe that?"

" _Yes, I do." She replied adamantly. "How are the kids?" Jolene asked, thinking of Kenny in particular, having been clocked in the face with the butt of Salazar's gun._

"They're fine," Jax lied. "Everybody's safe, but—"

" _But," Hector interrupted. "This conversation is over, lover boy. You can celebrate a happy reunion later. That is, if I get my money. Right now, it's time to talk business."_

Jax gritted his teeth. "So talk. What do you want?"

" _Get a pen," Salazar ordered. "You might want to write this shit down."_

* * *

Jax rubbed both hands over his face as he heard Salazar hang up on the other end. The table was silent as his brothers watched him try to compartmentalize the flood of emotions coursing through his veins as his only connection to Jolene and his son went dead. _Losing my old lady is not an option_ , Jax tried to convince himself. He's already been through this shit one too many times and they have been through too much, together and apart, for it to end this way.

He could see where brothers like Happy and Tig came from when they so eloquently said that bitches and kids made a man weak. They were wrong, though. His old lady and his children made him into the man he was today, a strong and capable leader. It was the thought of losing them that was making him weak and that also was not an option.

His family was counting on him to get them through this, he had outright promised he would, so he needed to pull himself together. But first, as he stared at his right fist, clenched tight and shaking with the tension, he decided to allow himself a moment of weakness before pushing forward. After slamming his fist onto the Redwood table, Jax sent the glass ashtray sitting in front of him flying until it shattered against the wall as he let out a primal scream that shook the rafters.

Jax closed his eyes and took a minute to refocus his rage.

If he had to look on the bright side, at least he had managed to negotiate humane treatment for his family, including food and bathroom breaks. Although Hector Salazar was a dead man walking, whether or not he died a quick death depended on his family remaining unharmed. Jax had made that point more than abundantly clear.

"You did good, son." Clay spoke up. Whether he was trying to convince himself or his son-in-law, Jax wasn't sure. "You know you've got this."

Jax nodded. "I appreciate the pep talk, Clay. I really do, brother, but now is not the time to dance around me, telling me everything's gonna be okay. I need to hear shit straight from my brothers sitting at this table." He explained. "I'm too close to see shit the way it really is. I know what my gut's trying to tell me, but I'm not gonna lie, my heart's telling me not to listen. I need to hear it, coming from your mouths."

The room was deathly silent for a long while before Clay felt brave enough to put his own concerns into words.

"The little shit has more _cojones_ than I thought possible," Clay said angrily. "And I'm afraid he just might be a little smarter than we gave him credit for, too."

"Half a mil ain't no pocket change," Bobby stated. "But you did good buying us some time."

Jax had managed to convince Salazar that it was going to take him a minute to get $500K together. Salazar had reluctantly agreed to Jax's one condition and gave him until Monday afternoon. Jax hated that his family would be in Salazar's control for so long, but it gave the Sons almost a day and a half to try and locate Salazar's hideout before the actual drop.

"And we're gonna need every minute of it." Happy said solemnly. "Splitting the ransom like he wants, has me a little worried, Jax."

Salazar was calling for a two-fold ransom drop. $500K in two payments of $250K each. The first money drop would broker Abel's release. The second one would secure Jolene's. The first drop was scheduled for Monday at 3:00 p.m., with Hector getting back to them about two hours before the drop with a location. Once he got the money, he would release Abel a few hours later. Salazar would then contact Jax the next morning with the location where he would make an even exchange of the money for Jolene, with the condition that Tig Trager be the one to deliver the ransom.

"You know the little shit intends to kill Tig, right?" Happy continued.

"Oh hell's yeah," Tig nonchalantly replied before Jax got the chance to. "He practically telegraphed his plans. He wants the money, but he also wants revenge for Pozo."

"But that's not all he wants, is it?" Jax forced himself to ask.

Happy shook his head as every set of eyeballs sitting at the table fell on him. "He wants respect. What better way to regain it than by taking the Club's $500K, killing Tig _and_ the SOA National President's old lady?"

"Shit, you saying he has no intention of letting Kit go?" Bobby asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

Happy shook his head and replied honestly. "I know I wouldn't."

* * *

All Jolene knew for sure was that it was the middle of the night. The house was eerily quiet and it was dark. She also knew that they were being held in the basement. It was damp, the cold floor was a mixture of dirt and cement, and the only light was coming from the water heater's pilot light. She could hear water running through the pipes overhead any time someone flushed the toilet or took a shower. Her arms, extending backwards with her wrists tied to a metal post, were numb, as were her legs stretched out before her. She was exhausted and, after hours of fighting it, the shadows dancing on the wall before her caused by the flickering glow of the water heater were lulling her to sleep. Jolene was so tired of trying to figure out a way for her and Abel to escape and coming up empty that she finally decided to give in and closed her eyes.

"Mommy?" Jolene's head instantly snapped up and her eyes popped open. Her little boy hasn't called her _mommy_ since he had turned eight.

"Yes, baby." Jolene whispered soothingly.

"I'm scared." He replied, his voice small and soft. He had been on the verge of finally falling asleep himself when he heard a rustling sound come from underneath the stairs. He was old enough to know that the only bogeymen that existed were men like Hector Salazar, so he was sure that the noise had been caused by some sort of vermin.

Jolene closed her eyes tight and felt a couple of tears run down her face. She was finding herself hard pressed not to lose her shit. Her baby boy was frightened—probably cold and hungry as well—and she couldn't even hold him in her arms. Instead, she had to find a way to comfort him with her words.

"I know you are, Abel. I am, too." Jolene acknowledged. "But I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you." She paused. "I promise."

Jolene knew she shouldn't be making promises to her son that, at the present moment, she had no chance of keeping. At least not while she was tied up, but he had been through so much already in the last ten hours that if a little white lie gave him a measure of comfort, she'd take it.

Their shared nightmare had truly started the moment they had been forced into Salazar's car. Soon after the kidnapping, Salazar's whore had covered both of their heads with hoods, forcing them off the back seat and onto the floor. Now unable to see where they were heading, Jolene's last point of reference had been a long-ago abandoned drive-in movie theatre. She remembered going to this drive-in with her Uncle Elvis when she was a little girl before it had closed down, so Jolene was sure that they were still within Lodi's city limits.

She had tried gauging just how far they had traveled from that point on by using her ears to determine how much and what kind of activity was going on around her. As traffic noises died down, Jolene realized that it was possible that they were no longer in Lodi, but she couldn't be sure.

When the car came to an abrupt stop, Jolene raised her head as Hector and Luisa got out of the car. Unable to push up the hood covering her face because her hands were tied behind her back, Jolene's insides froze when just moments later she heard three gun shots.

"Mom!" Abel cried out. "Why are they shooting?"

"I don't know, baby." Jolene lied.

Suddenly, the doors to the back seat opened and they were being dragged out of the car, only to be thrown into the trunk of what Jolene gathered was another one. Doing her best to comfort her son, Jolene said a silent prayer for what was undoubtedly an innocent victim of a car jacking, whom to Salazar had been nothing more than a means to an end.

From that point, Jolene estimated that they had driven around for another twenty or thirty minutes before they arrived at their final destination. Jolene tried to take note of her surroundings as they exited the car—the eerie quiet, the creaking of porch stairs as she and Abel were dragged into what smelled like an old house that had not been aired out in a long time, and finally being bullied down a steep flight of steps into the murky-smelling basement. She and Abel were quickly tied back-to-back to a large post. Only then were their hoods removed and they were finally left alone for a few hours.

It was clear to Jolene as she took a good look at her surroundings that Hector Salazar and his fucking whore seemed to be operating with a plan. What small windows the basement had were completely blacked out so that no light shone through, but more importantly, no light could be seen from the outside. With both of them securely bound with zip ties, even sitting back-to-back, there was no way that she would be able to untie Abel without something sharp. And even if Jolene had managed to unbind herself, with the only thing in the basement being a rusted out old washing machine, there was nothing readily available for her to use as a weapon.

It had been such a relief to hear the love of her life's voice a short while later that she had almost broken down in tears. Jolene, however, quickly pulled herself together. She needed her old man to stay strong and focused and crying out in fear and panic was not the way to achieve that. Now more than ever Jax needed her to be a strong old lady, not just for him, but for their son as well.

Being made privy to Salazar's discussion with Jax regarding plans for the ransom drop filled Jolene with suspicion and dread. She couldn't explain where the feeling was coming from, but Jolene felt the ugly and bitter truth wrap its icy fingers around her heart. There was no way she was getting out of this whole, not if Salazar had his way. Like her old man had told her in the past, sometimes you had to plan for the worst while hoping for the best. While she believed wholeheartedly that Jax and her family were doing everything they could to secure her and Abel's freedom, there was nothing to keep her from doing what she could to help them along.

_I have to do whatever I can to get Abel and me the fuck out of here._

But now she really needed to comfort her son.

"I know this is really hard for you, baby, but you've done so well so far." Jolene started. "We're going to get through this together, but I need you to stay strong and brave for me, okay?"

Jolene could hear as Abel swallowed the lump in his throat. "Okay." He replied after a long pause. "I just wish I could have stopped them from taking us. I know Dad would have."

"Baby, you did all you that you could when you shouldn't have done anything at all. They could've hurt you, but I am so proud of you, Abel. You are so much like your father."

"Dad's coming for us, right, Mom?" He asked hopefully.

She could hear her little boy fighting to control himself, to keep from crying and it was breaking her heart. "Yes he is. We've just got to be patient, but you have to promise me that from now on you won't give these shitheads any lip. You do exactly as I say, you understand?"

"I understand." Abel replied quietly.

"Good. Now, try and get a little sleep." Jolene said as rested her head against the post and closed her eyes.

_I need to conserve my energy because the second I see an opening, we are getting the fuck out of here!_

* * *

Emerson Park was one of several municipal parks in Oakland. Beautifully landscaped and designed to attract visitors, the park offered something for everyone.

Situated on 20 acres of land, it had recently undergone a $15 million face lift. Now with fully renovated basketball and tennis courts, baseball and football fields, areas for skateboarding and rollerblading, bicycle and walking paths, and large picnic areas and grill pits set up for barbecues, it was a favorite local attraction and always busy no matter what day of the week it was.

And it was the perfect location for a ransom drop.

Jax Teller made his way through the park to the spot that Hector Salazar had designated for the drop. It was important that nothing go wrong with the plan today. Despite a day and a half of working with a number of crews and low-level street informants, the Club had been unable to pinpoint the location of Salazar's hideout. A large number of leads had come in, including as far as Reno, but none had panned out.

If the scenario Happy had set out for him was correct, this would be Jax's last shot at getting his hands on Salazar before any harm came to his old lady. And as far as Jax was concerned, that was just too close for comfort.

Only a couple of hours before the scheduled time for the drop, Salazar had called with the location and his instructions. They were to drop the money in a garbage can between the two big grill pits in the middle of the park. Once Salazar retrieved the money, he would release Abel a few hours later. With the electronic trackers Juice was able to acquire imbedded in the money, it was inevitable that SAMCRO would catch up to Salazar and his bitch in his hideout. Once Jax made sure that Jolene and Abel were on their way back home safely, he would take his time as he thoroughly enjoyed extracting his pound of flesh in actual flesh and blood.

Jax made an imposing figure as he navigated his ride through the park. The park was surprisingly full of people for a Monday afternoon, women out with their children in strollers, joggers, kids on bikes, and scattered groups of teenage kids hanging around. Parking his ride at the base of a hill, Jax got off the bike and took off his helmet.

The picnic area and barbeque pits were up on a small hill and even from this distance Jax was able to spot the large bright blue garbage can. Checking the straps of the backpack on his shoulder, Jax headed up the hill, constantly sweeping his eyes around as he took in his surroundings and the people in his vicinity. Playing it cool, Jax kept reminding himself that only a couple of hours at most was what separated him from his family.

_Soon, it'll be all over for me as well as Ope_ _when_ _we finally put an end to this living nightmare._

Other than to nod genially to other passersby, like the gaggle of giggling girls who were making eyes at him, the young couple sitting close together on a bench talking, or the boys doing tricks on their dirt bikes, Jax kept his steely blue eyes on his goal. Finally reaching the garbage can, Jax casually let the backpack slide down his arms, letting it drop to his side and, as he passed by, casually dropped it into the can in one smooth motion, without breaking his stride.

"I made the drop. Keep your eyes peeled." Jax murmured under his breath. Having already circled around the can, he was nearly all the way down the hill and standing next to his bike when he heard Juice's agitated voice through the bud in his ear.

"Shit, Jax! Some kids just pulled the bag out of the can!" Juice yelled.

Swearing under his breath, Jax turned around and to his consternation saw two boys speeding off on their bikes. One had the backpack slung over his shoulder as they both headed north out of the park.

"Fuck!" Jax growled to himself.

Jumping on his bike, Jax knew he'd have no problem overtaking them and getting the bag back. Suddenly, Jax was nearly paralyzed as he spotted the couple that had been sitting on the bench leap to their feet as they took off in hot pursuit of the fleeing boys. It was what they were screaming, however, that got Jax's adrenaline pumping through his body with pure rage.

"FBI! FBI! Freeze, damn it! Freeze!"

_What the fuck?_

Gunning the motor and speeding off after them, Jax couldn't believe his eyes as suddenly the park was swarming with people. Nearly a dozen agents all wearing black jackets with the "FBI" emblazoned on the back in bright yellow came out of nowhere and converged on the two boys trying to escape with the ransom money.

The two little douche bags made quick work of outsmarting the Keystone Kops and would have gotten away had it not been for his brothers.

Tig on his bike, with Chibs behind the wheel of the Club's black cargo van hot on his heels, had converged on the spot from the opposite side of the drop and managed to cut the two kids off. Boxing them in between the Feds on foot and the cargo van, the boys were quickly surrounded.

Winding in an out throught a crowd of agents, Jax pulled to a stop and got off his bike just as Tig grabbed the kid with the bag by the scruff of the neck, lifting him off his dirt bike in one fluid motion.

"What the fuck you think you doin', you little asshole?" Tig shook the boy like a little mongrel before he grabbed the bag and dropped the kid on the grass on all fours.

Suddenly, Tig found himself slammed to the ground by two agents. "Radio Matthews and tell him we got one of the kidnappers!" Shouted a burly officer, who was struggling desperately to subdue his captive. That shout quickly morphed into a bloodcurdling scream as Tig's teeth clamped down on his hand.

"Stop it!" Jax yelled, as the cargo van's doors opened to reveal Juice, Opie and Happy, who jumped out to help their brother. "Let him go, you fuckin' piece of shit! He's not the kidnapper! That's my fuckin' Sergeant at Arms, douche bag!"

In the ensuing melee, Jax's voice was lost as fists pounded on flesh and the scuffle intensified as the FBI tried to subdue the Sons, all of them in plainclothes. Jax had just gotten off a roundhouse punch, followed up by a left jab to an agent's midsection when he heard the call come through the agent's walkie-talkie clipped to his belt.

" _This is Agent Owens. Possible suspect in late model tan sedan is heading east on Commerce Street. Any and all agents pursue and intercept. Now, damn it! Now!"_

Suddenly, Jax and his brothers found themselves alone as numerous agents broke free of the fracas and took off towards the sound of a car peeling rubber.

"Shit!" Happy yelled. "That's Salazar!" Running back to the cargo van and their bikes, SAMCRO took off in pursuit of the FBI and Salazar.

* * *

"What the fuck just happened?" Special Agent Matthews demanded tersely as Jax strode up to him.

With no warning, the uppercut caught the Agent square on the chin, knocking him to the ground. Quick to follow through, Jax fell to his knees, raining at least half a dozen blows on the hapless agent before Matthews started fighting back. As Jax's brothers and a small group of agents struggled to pull the two men apart, Jax screamed at the top of his lungs.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

"You have got to control your rage, bro!" Tig ordered as he managed to get his slippery President in a headlock. "Fuck! Ouch! Hold onto your shit, man!"

Shaking himself free from his team, Matthews spat out a mouthful of blood. With the inside of his bottom lip split open and quite possibly a broken nose, blood from his face was dripping down onto his $300 Armani silk tie.

"What the fuck, asshole?" Matthews screamed. "Somebody get the cuffs on him! NOW!"

As an agent stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs, the SAMCRO VP stepped in front of his President and stared the man down.

"The hell you will." Opie said contemptuously, his voice low and menacing. Turning to Agent Matthew's second-in-command, he addressed her instead. "You follow through on that shit order, Agent Owens and I promise you that this little shit storm will be nothing but a bad public relations nightmare for all of you stupid fuckers. I can see it now: 'Lead Agent orders the arrest of distraught husband after the FBI botches a ransom drop.' And God forbid anything happens to Jolene and Abel because of your screw up. Instead of setting up stings in public parks, you'll end up scraping the gum off the bottom of park benches."

Agent Owens took a deep breath and nodded. "Stand down, Michaels." She ordered the would-be arresting agent.

"What the fuck?" Matthews sputtered at her.

"Sean, let it go." Owens said angrily.

_Personally, I wish the man had gotten in a few more good shots at your dumbass. Maybe then I wouldn't have to deal with your stupid showboating any more._

By this time, Jax had managed to get himself under control. "Tell me what the fuck are you doing here."

Owens sighed. "We were here," She eyed her superior before facing Jax. "To help." She replied quietly.

"Is that what you call this shit? Help?!" Jax asked angrily. As he got into Agent Owens' face, her colleagues made a move to intercept him, but she held her hand up and waved them off. "I told you people that we had this shit contained. How did you even know what was going down today? We only found out ourselves a couple of hours ago!"

"We have ways of obtaining information." Owens replied somewhat shamefacedly.

"No shit!" Jax exclaimed.

What Agent Owens wasn't saying was that Agent Matthews had ordered a surveillance team to track the Sons' every move. They had managed to strike pay dirt when Elliott Oswald was seen entering and leaving the Clubhouse. Following him to the home of the local bank's Chairman of the Board, Matthews paid a visit to the man and had coerced him into revealing what information he had concerning the ransom demands. Owens was not about to go into detail with Teller regarding the underhanded tactics Matthews had used, including the illegal wiretapping of Oswald's phone, a private citizen, in order to get the location of the drop.

"Your piece of shit boss may have just caused the deaths of my wife and son." Jax turned and pointed a finger at Agent Matthews. "Anything happens to them because of your interference, I'm coming for you."

"Are you threatening a federal agent?" Matthews shouted back.

"I'm threatening _you._ " Jax growled. "We had everything under control until you and your people fucked everything up. That money was going to lead us straight to my family. Now we have shit!"

Jax stalked away, his brothers silently following behind him. Time was running out. With Salazar now under the impression that the Club had set a trap for him with the FBI, there was nothing to prevent him from killing Jolene or Abel.

 _And there's nothing I can do about it_ , Jax thought bleakly.

* * *

_It was a fuckin' trap!_

Feeling equal parts rage and fear as he sped away from Emerson Park, Salazar pounded his fist onto the steering wheel of his car.

Having chosen the park for the drop because he was familiar with its layout, Hector had picked out the best vantage point possible, a hill that provided a wide angle view of the barbecue pits. Using a pair of binoculars, he had easily spotted Jax Teller pulling to a stop at the base of the hill and dropping his money in the designated garbage can.

"My fuckin' money!" Salazar growled to himself as he sharply rounded a corner. Slamming his fist against the steering wheel again in frustration, Hector pulled into the parking lot of the Oakland Galleria Mall and quickly abandoned his stolen vehicle. Pulling the baseball cap down low on his forehead, he swiftly but calmly made his way inside the Mall and worked his way through to the exit at the opposite end.

As he walked in the midst of the stay-at-home moms and teenaged kids, Hector relived the moment where he looked on in stunned horror as two little shits on dirt bikes grabbed the backpack with his money and tried to get away. In a rage, he had almost run after them. Now he realized that that must have been part of the plan to get him out into the open. He had hesitated and it was that hesitation that had saved his life.

Suddenly, the park was swarming with the fucking FBI! Salazar chuckled in spite of himself. SAMCRO was supposed to be the toughest crew in NorCal, but like a bunch of pussies, they had called in the _Feds_ to help catch him.

 _They didn't even have the balls to take me on by themselves_ , Hector gloated. _But_ _I fucking outsmarted them anyway_.

Those kids had saved his ass, but with his adrenaline pumping through his veins like a fuckin' freight train, he had gunned it out of the park, calling unwanted attention to himself. He had just barely managed to lose the two cars packed with Feds when he ran a red light just as a sanitation truck was crossing the intersection, effectively blocking the asshole agents from following him further.

 _That was fuckin' awesome! The kind of driving you only see in movies_!

Hector's knowledge of the area had given him an advantage and had allowed him to evade the pigs on his tail. Quickly putting distance between them, Salazar knew that he had ditch the car and fast as it was more than likely that the license plate and make of the car had been spotted and an APB had gone wide. Abandoning it in the Mall parking lot had been the best play. Now, on the opposite side of the mall, Hector exited and made quick work jacking his next ride, an old and nondescript dark green Ford sedan.

Exiting the Mall, Hector decided to find himself a quiet place to think before he made his next move. It was too risky heading back to his hideout right away. Just in case he had been spotted taking this POS, he needed to boost another car to get back to Luisa and their hostages.

 _Teller made a big mistake involving the fuckin' Fed_ pigs, Salazar thought. Somone had to pay the price for that mistake in order to teach the SAMCRO President a lesson and get him to see the error in his ways. _Yep_ , Salazar smirked to himself. _As_ _soon as I get back to the house, I'm gonna kill his bitch_!


	16. Mama Bear

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Jolene grimaced as she was shoved from behind up the stairs to the second floor.

"Move, bitch. I don't have all day." Luisa growled, her gun pressed against the small of Jolene's back as she continued to push her up the stairs.

Jolene was trying to move as fast as she could, but with her hands now tied with duct tape in front of her, and with Luisa impatiently nudging her from behind, she didn't clear the last step. As her booted foot caught the edge, Jolene tripped, her right knee viciously slamming down on the hardwood floor of the second floor landing.

"Ow!" Jolene complained, wanting so very much to rub her sore knee, but Luisa grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked, more to annoy than to actually help Jolene onto her feet again.

"Get the fuck up!" Luisa screeched.

Jax had negotiated humane treatment in the form of food and bathroom breaks for her and Abel, but her two kidnappers had basically reneged on the deal from the word go. Providing no food, they gave her and Abel one small bottle of water to share a day in order to cut down on bathroom breaks. With the basement bathroom now suddenly out of order, it was apparently too much trouble for Luisa to escort them upstairs in order to take care of their business as needed.

Grabbing onto the creaky baluster at the top of the stairs with her bound hands, Jolene managed to pull herself up. Quickly taking in her surroundings, she noticed two doors down the hall which she surmised led into bedrooms and a third, the bathroom, just opposite the landing to the side of the stairway.

Once again shoving her from behind, Luisa led Jolene towards the bathroom, when, without warning, Jolene found herself being slammed face first against the doorjamb. Banging the side of her face against the wood hard enough to make her ears ring, Jolene fell against the wall and slid down onto the floor again. With her head spinning and her eyes practically twirling in their sockets from the force of the impact, she barely noticed as Luisa grabbed at her left hand. Blinking rapidly to refocus her vision, a wave of shock overcame her as she realized that the fucking whore was making quick work of removing her five carat engagement ring and wedding band from her ring finger.

Leaning against the wall, Jolene looked up and watched in cold anger as the smaller woman slipped her rings onto her third finger of her left hand. About one size too big, the rings swam loosely around Luisa's finger.

"Is this a real diamond?" Luisa held her hand out in front of her admiringly. "Shit! Your old man sure has some great fuckin' taste. I'm gonna have to get these resized since you won't be needing them anymore." She gloated.

Luisa had coveted those rings from the moment she had laid eyes on them as she tied up Teller's bitch in the back seat of the car the night of the kidnapping, but Hector had told her to leave that shit alone. But now that Hector had changed his plans concerning the bitch, Luisa figured that it made no sense for those rings to go to waste when she could put them to good use.

Jolene glared at the woman grimly as she made a mental note of just one more reason why she was going to kill the little twat. With the death threat burning the back of her throat, Jolene took a deep breath to calm down. There was no need to telegraph her intentions to the stupid whore until it was too late.

Pointing the gun at her again, Luisa grabbed a fistful of Jolene's long black hair and wrapped it around her hand. Refusing to cry out, tears sprung to Jolene's eyes as Luisa used her hair to pull her back onto her feet.

Luisa opened the bathroom door and gestured to Jolene with the gun in her right hand. "Shit quick, bitch! You got five minutes." She warned.

Slamming the door behind her with the heel of her boot, Jolene was fuming. For the last two days, she and her son had been at the mercy of the sick and twisted son of a bitch and the whore responsible for the deaths of her best friend and drinking buddy. It was obvious that they were desperate and running out of options, but whatever plan they had concocted was working for them so far.

In spite of that fact, the young Queen of Charming still couldn't believe that she and her son found themselves in this situation and bitterly blamed herself for being caught unaware. If she could, she'd kick herself for fighting back. Maybe if she hadn't, they wouldn't have grabbed Abel as well.

 _These two assholes picked the wrong Mama Bear to fuck around with_ , Jolene thought _._ Although she believed her old man wholeheartedly when he told her that he would get them out of this, Jolene had a sinking sensation that she wouldn't last one more day. And if that were the case, she needed to at least get her son out of this predicament.

Salazar's plan for the ransom drop made her uneasy. Even though there was a possibility that they had every intention of letting Abel go after they received their first payment of $250K, wanting Tig to be the one to deliver the money at the second drop could only mean one thing.

 _Salazar wants revenge_.

With Tig dead and half a million of the Club's money in their possession, they needed her for insurance. Taking her as a hostage would secure them safe passage to Mexico, but once there, Jolene would quickly become a nuisance and a liability. Remembering what Luisa said when she had taken her rings—that she wouldn't be needing them anymore—more than likely meant that Salazar's endgame meant for her to die. Jolene knew that if left up to her kidnappers, her time on this earth would soon run out.

Anger and fear were great propellants. Jolene realized that this was her chance to make good use of both, but first she needed a plan.

Quickly taking in her surroundings, Jolene noticed that the small bathroom was bare, just a simple tub, a toilet, a small sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet, a towel rack, and . . .

 _A window_.

Walking over to the window, Jolene realized that it was long and narrow. Possibly wide enough for her to get through, but probably not without making a lot of noise. Noticing that the small lock on the frame of the window wasn't engaged, Jolene, with the noise of the flushing toilet as a cover, used her bound hands to try pushing the window open.

_Please, God, please!_

* * *

"It's going to be all right, baby." Jolene whispered with conviction.

"But Mom—" Abel sniffled.

"No buts, Abel." Jolene demanded, her voice still low, but strong. "You do what you're told, understand?" She held her breath, waiting for her son's response.

Abel sighed. "Okay."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Mommy."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Jolene took a deep breath and called out. "Hey! Get your ass down here! My kid has to go!"

For the next ten minutes, Jolene continued hollering at the top of her voice until she finally heard the clicking of her captor's boot heels. Throwing the basement door open with such force that it slammed against the wall, Luisa growled from the top of the stairs. "What the fuck you want, bitch?"

"My kid has to go to the bathroom."

"Like I care." Luisa countered. "Your boy's got a dick. Make him use the jar I left for him." Jolene watched as the woman came down the stairs. Walking behind Jolene, Luisa shoved an old mayonnaise jar towards Abel.

"You're gonna have to use the jar, baby." Jolene said wearily.

"But, Mom," Abel whined. "I have to take a poop."

"You heard your mom, brat," Luisa crossed her arms and smirked. "You gonna have to use the jar."

"Really?" Abel asked defiantly. "You expect me to shit in a jar with my hands tied?"

Luisa reached down and slapped him hard across the face. "Show a little respect or I'm gonna let you take that shit in your pants." She threatened. "Why do you have to go, anyway? It's not like we've been feeding you."

Jolene literally saw red as she heard the sound of Luisa's palm connect with her son's cheek.

_The bitch is so dead and she doesn't even know it._

"You get off on hitting kids, you dirty whore?" Jolene demanded. "Why don't you untie me and try hitting him again?"

Luisa walked around the post to face Jolene and quickly backhanded her across the face. "Not gonna happen, but how about I just smack the shit out of you instead, puta?"

Jolene spit out the blood that erupted from the cut inside her mouth, directing it at Luisa. Grinning in triumph as the woman looked down in disgust at the mixture of spit and blood marring her white tank top, Jolene taunted, "Anybody ever tell you that you hit like a little bitch?"

Almost snarling like a wild animal, this time Luisa hit her with a fist and laughed as Jolene slumped over. "Who's the bitch now?" Luisa smirked at the seemingly knocked out woman.

"Stop! Leave my Mom alone, please!" Abel yelled.

"Then your mother needs to shut the fuck up, asshole." Luisa stalked around to the other side of the pole. Bending over, she untied the cords that secured Abel to the post and dragged the boy as he struggled to get up on his feet. "C'mon, you little shit! My stories are about to start."

As Luisa pulled Abel up the basement stairs, he snuck a look at his mother. There was a thin trail of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. He frowned when, even from a distance, he could see her rapidly swelling eye.

Abel had to suppress a smile, however, when Jolene stealthily opened her good eye and winked at him.

* * *

After parking his ride, Jax quickly made his way through a maze of patches and bikes in the filled-to-capacity lot as he headed towards the Clubhouse. Gemma, having heard the convoy of Harleys entering the T-M lot, nearly ran him over as she met him at the door. Coming to a sudden stop, Gemma saw the grim look on her son's face, as well as on those of his brothers.

And no Abel.

Gemma moistened her lips as she reached out to hug her son. "What happened? Where's my grandson?"

Jax shook his head as he pulled away, dreading the meaning behind the explanation for his son's absence. "The drop went south, Ma." He looked at his mother with red, moist eyes. "We didn't get Abel."

"What?" Gemma whispered.

Wrapping his arm around his mother's shoulders, Jax walked her into the Clubhouse where more of his brothers were waiting to hear what happened. No longer trusting himself to speak, knowing that his break down was imminent, Jax nodded at his SAA.

"The fuckin' FBI showed up uninvited and botched the drop." Tig explained, his voice low. "Salazar got away."

Feeling a sudden tightness in her chest, Gemma's legs gave out from underneath her and Jax barely managed to catch her before she collapsed onto the floor, her sobs sending tremors through her slender body. Rushing over to his old lady, and with Jax's help, Clay gently guided her into one of the leather chairs as he tried to comfort her. "We're gonna get them back, Gem. Both of them, but you have to hold on, baby. For me. For all of us, okay?"

Just as Jax was about to speak, he felt his pre-pay vibrating in his kutte and pulled it out. Seeing Jolene's sweet smile tore at his heart. Taking a deep breath, Jax flipped it open and started talking. "Look man, we didn't call the fuckin' pigs in on this—"

" _You expect me to believe that, you fuckin' pussy? You set me up, homes because you must have thought I was fuckin' around, playing games wit you. Well, now I'm gonna show you that I mean business. Your old lady's gonna die hating you, muthafucka, 'cause right before I put a bullet in her brain, I'm gonna tell her that this was all your fault. Poor stupid bitch. I guess you didn't love her as much as she thought you did, huh, ese." Salazar taunted before hanging up._

Salazar smiled as he threw Jolene's cell phone into the passenger seat. _I'm gonna kill her and dump her body in Charming. Maybe then her old man will get the fuckin' message._

* * *

"Oh God! Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Luisa raged as she pulled at her hair. "That stupid little piece of shit!" Running down the flight of stairs from the second floor, the woman stalked around the foyer as she pounded the side of her head with her fist.

Luisa had taken the boy to the bathroom and had been waiting for him to finish when she heard the theme music for her favorite Spanish telenovela coming from the TV in the living room.

After months of safely hiding out in the basement of his Aunt Ramona's foreclosed house, Hector had grown increasingly bold and ok'd them moving out of the basement and into the rest of the house. The house was the last one at the end of a dead end street and with the house next door and the one across the street similarly empty, there had been little chance of discovery.

Hector had set up a TV that he had managed to steal from one of his unknowing neighbors in the living room along with a broken down old couch Ramona had left behind. The television, with the pirated cable service Hector had hooked up, had been the one thing keeping Luisa sane over the last few months spent living in hiding.

Figuring that she could keep the brat locked in the bathroom, Luisa had gone back downstairs to lose herself in the world of star-crossed lovers, Diego and Elena, as they stayed one step ahead of a gang of drug-dealing banditos to find love and paradise in the Caribbean.

 _Soon that will be me and Hector, except we'll be in Mexico with a shitload of money_ , Luisa gloated to herself as she eyed the green diamonds on her finger _._

But that dream was now quickly morphing into a nightmare when, during a commercial break, Luisa unlocked the bathroom. Except for a cuticle cutter from a manicure kit left in the medicine cabinet that had been used to cut through duct tape now lying on the floor, the bathroom was empty. Horrified, she had stared at the narrow window, now wide open as cold air blew inside, for a long time before she came to a chilling conclusion.

_Hector's gonna kill me!_

Running to the basement, Luisa ran through the open door and dashed down the steep stairs to find a semi-conscious Jolene.

"You bitch!" Luisa screamed as she slugged Jolene in the face, the back of her head bouncing off the metal post she was tied to. "Where is he?"

"Where's who?" Jolene said stupidly, her head reeling once again from the force of the blows.

"Your son, you piece of shit!" Luisa yelled.

"My son? He's with you." Jolene blinked rapidly as she tried to get her bearings. "What the fuck have you done?!" Her voice rose an octave, becoming high-pitched.

"Your little bastard got loose and climbed out the fuckin' window!" Luisa explained, stupefied that a little boy and a soap opera had gotten the best of her.

"Oh my God," Jolene whispered weakly. "What time is it?" She peered at one of the blacked out windows, seeing the edge of one of the newspapers peeling down. "Oh God, it's almost dark. You have to find him!"

"No shit, bitch! Hector will be back soon."

Jolene moistened her lips. "Look, my son, he's on foot. It's dark and he's afraid of the dark. He'll probably find some place close by to hide and wait until morning before trying to find his way home. How long has he been gone?" She demanded.

"I don't fuckin' know." Luisa moaned as she ran her hand over her dark ponytail.

"Well, think, damn it!" Jolene was near hysterical.

"Uh, 15-30 minutes, maybe." Luisa paced back and forth like a caged animal.

"Then he didn't get too far before it started getting dark. He's probably holed up in a nearby lot or another house. You have to find him." Jolene nearly begged.

Luisa cocked the hand holding the small gun on her hip. "Yeah, right. Like he's just gonna come running when I call for him." She sneered.

Luisa saw the woman swallow the lump in her throat. "Then take me with you." As Luisa scoffed, Jolene continued to plead her case. "Look, you have a gun. I'm unarmed and I'm not going to risk getting shot. We can walk around the neighborhood. If I'm the one calling out, he'll listen to me and come out." Jolene babbled on as Luisa looked at her with disdain. "He will. He's only eight years old. He'll get scared that you'll hurt me and he'll come out. Then you can bring us back to the house before your old man gets here." She promised desperately.

"Why are you so eager to help me?" Luisa narrowed her dark eyes at Jolene suspiciously.

"I'm not helping you, you idiot! I just want my son back. He's the only thing that's important to me right now. My old man is going to come through with the ransom and, when he does, you and Hector will be a hell of a lot richer and on your way to someplace where the Club can't get to you. But none of that is going to happen for you if something terrible happens to my son while he's out there all alone. _Please_." Jolene pleaded.

Luisa eyed the woman. _Damn, kids make a bitch weak_ , she thought, seeing the desperation pouring off of Jolene. _She really means it._

"Okay," Luisa started. "But at the first sign you're playing me, I'll slit your damn throat, understand?"

Jolene nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes. I understand."

Luisa tucked her gun into the back of her jeans and worked quickly to untie her captive. Backing away from the woman, she watched as Jolene rolled onto her side and then got on all fours to push herself up into a standing position. She bent over, stretching the muscles in her calves and legs as the tingly, prickly feeling ran through her limbs due to inactivity.

"Okay, shit, that's enough stretching. This ain't no Zumba class." Luisa snarked, pulling her gun out again and keeping it trained on Jolene's chest as she stood a mere two feet away.

Luisa smiled to herself as she looked at the obviously broken woman in front of her. _What a weak bitch_.

Jolene held out her hands. "Cut me loose."

"What? Get the fuck out of here?" Luisa laughed. "Why the fuck would I do that for?"

"Uh, because it would probably look a little suspicious for you to be walking me up and down the street like this." Jolene sighed, exasperated. "All it's going to take is for one person to see me like this and call it in. Kidnapping is a federal offense, you know and this shit has probably been all over the news. If there's a reward, I'm sure somebody will be looking to cash in, which is another reason why we need to find my son and soon."

Luisa knew she was right on that score. Watching the news had been one of the tasks that Hector had delegated to her. With a $25K reward on the line, Luisa knew there were a lot of people in this neighborhood alone that would sell out their mothers if it meant getting their hands on that kind of cash.

"All right," Luisa said begrudgingly. "But we're walking arm-in-arm." She smiled. "Just like we're the best of friends, except my little friend here," She waved the gun in her right hand. "Will be pressed against your ribs the whole time. Try anything, and you'll be dead before you hit the ground."

Jolene nodded her consent and again extended her arms in front of her, level with Luisa's chest.

Slowly bringing her left boot up, and without taking her eyes off of Jolene, Luisa removed a six-inch hunting knife with her left hand. Keeping her gun trained on Jolene, she slipped the knife in between Jolene's wrists and, with one fluid motion, brought the knife first down and then up to slice cleanly through the duct tape.

Luisa was so focused on slicing through the ties that bound her captive that she didn't read the cold, murderous intent in Jolene's eyes.

* * *

Abel was crouched down low in the darkness. He had waited at least five minutes before he was sure that the stupid woman had gone back to her soap opera. Then, it had taken him another five minutes to cut himself loose from the duct tape using the tiny scissors his mom had said he would find in the medicine cabinet.

Finally prying the window open wide enough to shove his way through, Abel had nearly broken his neck as he almost slipped off the spindly trellis that ran the length of the side of the house down to the ground. He had badly wrenched his arm, but all that matter was that he had made it. It was full pitch darkness by the time he had made his great escape and, unfortunately, there was very little moonlight to guide him.

" _Stick to the backyards and keep out of sight until you can find a payphone or someone your gut says you can trust." His mom had instructed._

Abel only disobeyed his mother once by stealthily edging his way around to the front. He needed to know the number of the house they had been held in order to find his mom later. Fortunately for him, the one lone streetlamp at the end of the block provided enough light to illuminate the edge of the property, making "114 Landing Road Way" in white paint on the old fashioned mailbox easy to read. Now, if only he could figure out what city they were in, he could tell his father exactly where they were.

Wrapping the dingy towel he had found in the bathroom around his narrow shoulders to ward off the cold night air, Abel set off. His mom believed that they were still in Lodi. His mom was the smartest person he knew and if she believed they were in Lodi, then that's where they were, Abel reasoned. He would never tell Kenny this, but his mom was his best friend. He had been somewhat old enough to remember a time in his short life when it had been just the two of them. They had been through a lot together and his mother had never let him down or disappointed him. He trusted her with his life.

Now it was his turn to return the favor.

He was going to do his best to rescue his mother while keeping his ass safe at the same time.

 _Because if anything happens to me, Ma's gonna kill me when this is all over_.

* * *

Abel felt like he had been running forever as he weaved his way through backyards and deserted streets, hoping it would all lead him to a brightly lit and heavily populated area. His heart was trying to pound its way out of his small chest as he finally broke through some sparse shrubbery. He hit the pavement running and dashed down the street with no jacket, only the thin towel wrapped around him to ward off the cold.

Following the flow of traffic and the sound of honking horns, he finally found the interstate. Sighing with relief, Abel spotted a gas station and a small convenience store across the highway. As cars whizzed by him, Abel took a few moments to mentally prepare himself for crossing the road. He knew it was dangerous, but he had to get to a phone.

 _Gas stations always have phones_ , he told himself, trying to pump himself up. _And I need a phone to call Dad_.

Seeing a slight break in traffic, Abel quickly dodged across the four lane highway as drivers angrily blared their horns at him. A couple of them even gave him the finger. He didn't care because halfway across he had spotted several bikes parked in front of the convenience store. Knowing that his father and a Clubhouse full of uncles would be actively looking for him and his mom, only one thought flashed through his mind.

_Sons!_

Scurrying his way through gas pumps and around a rack of giveaway maps of the area's attractions, Abel barely paid attention to the bikes as he burst through the doors of the convenience store. His eyes darting back and forth as he frantically searched for his father's brothers, Abel smiled with relief as he saw a man with a short crew cut wearing a leather kutte standing in the back by the refrigerator case of beers.

Heading in that direction, Abel was about to call out a greeting when his eyes widened in horror as the man turned his back towards him, his top rocker coming into full view.

_Calaveras!_

Realizing that he had just gone from the frying pan and into the fire, Abel slowly backed his way down the aisle, his eyes never leaving the man. Inching his way towards the exit, he suddenly and without warning slammed into a slab of muscle. Turning around, Abel managed to swallow a scream as he found himself looking up at the light-skinned Hispanic man towering over him, a President's patch prominently displayed on his kutte.

Taking in the blond-haired, green-eyed little white boy looking up at him in stark terror, Roscoe Cabrera, the new CL President, grinned.

"Well, well. What the fuck do we have here?"

* * *

Finally free from her constraints for the first time in 48 hours, Jolene threw her arms up and out in a wide arc, slamming into Luisa's and causing the gun in her right hand to sail through the air.

"Oh shit!" Luisa screamed, realizing just a second too late that she no longer had possession of her gun.

Still gripping onto the knife, she quickly took a fighting stance in order to keep Jolene in front of her and away from the gun now on the floor across the room. With her face a mask of fury, Jolene showed no fear as she lunged towards Luisa in order to grab the knife out of her hand. Desperate to hold onto her weapon, Luisa's balled up fist connected with the side of Jolene's head, knocking her back a step.

Seeing an opening, Luisa hoisted the knife over her head, ready to plunge it into Jolene in a downward arc. Determined to be the one that got out of this alive, Jolene raised one arm up defensively and threw a solid jab with the other that connected dead center of the woman's face. With her adrenaline pumping, Jolene didn't even feel the knife slice through her forearm, opening a gaping and bloody gash almost from wrist to elbow. Instead, as Luisa's head snapped back from the jab to the face, Jolene quickly followed through with an uppercut, catching Luisa under the chin.

As Luisa staggered back, somehow managing to stay upright, Jolene slammed into her with all her might, causing both women to fall with a heavy thud on the dirt-covered concrete floor of the basement. With the wind momentarily knocked out of Luisa, who took the brunt of the fall, Jolene grabbed onto the wrist clutching the knife as she smushed Luisa's face into the dirt with the other. Now both women were grunting and screaming like wild animals as Luisa kicked her legs furiously in an effort to force Jolene off of her and keep control of the knife. Unable to grab Luisa's free arm as the woman tried prying her off by pulling on her hair, Jolene imbedded her nails into Luisa's skin and raked them across her face, leaving deep and bloody scratches.

Distracted by the searing pain, Luisa let go of Jolene's hair as Jolene rolled and twisted, finally straddling Luisa's back. In spite of Luisa bucking and writhing like a wild horse, Jolene held onto her hand with the knife, repeatedly slamming it against the concrete floor until the knife skidded out of her hand.

"GET OFF ME, PUT—"

Luisa's last words were cut short as, with all of the rage and fury of a mother bear protecting her cub, Jolene Teller grabbed fistfuls of hair, her nails once again digging into the woman's face, and violently wrenched her head to the left.

With the loud popping sound of Luisa's neck breaking still ringing in her ears, Jolene let herself slide off Luisa's body and onto her back as she tried to catch her breath.

* * *

Jax and his brothers, having torn out of Charming with the help of their fellow patches acting as decoys, were now ripping down the road at breakneck speed. Jax barely had a coherent thought in his head as he replayed the call he received only minutes ago on the bar's telephone.

"Get your ass to the gas station on I-18 East in ten minutes, homes. I got something of yours."

Then suddenly Jax heard the sweetest sound ever chiming in his ears.

"Dad?!" Abel cried. "Dad, I got away!"

"Abel? ABEL?!"

The shout that tore out of SAMCRO's President caused no little reaction as each and every body filling up the Main Room of the Clubhouse stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Jax.

"Are you all right?! Where's your mother?!" Jax nearly bellowed.

"I had to leave her, Dad. She's still at the house." Abel's voice finally broke from the strain and Jax could hear his son sob. "I'm sorry, but she made me do it."

Jax's heart constricted in his chest. "It's okay, Little Man," He said soothingly, feeling something akin to pride in his son and his old lady. "So you're in Lodi?"

Abel swiped his arm under his runny nose. "Yeah, at the gas station off the highway. I think it's about a mile from where me and Mom were being held."

"Okay, son. You hang tight 'cause we're heading there right now."

"Please hurry, Dad. That bastard's gonna come back soon and he's gonna be pissed that I got away." Abel pleaded. "The house is at 114 Landing Road Way. It's a dead end street and it's the last house at the end of the road."

"I'm proud of you, Abel. We'll be there soon." Hanging up, Jax turned to face his brothers. "Opie, Tig, Hap, and Juice, with me. Half-Sack, you and Clay bring the van. The rest of you, we all leave together. Once we hit Main Street, we break formation into groups of four, disrupting the flow of traffic. Do what you have to in order to keep the cops off our trail."

Tig let out a long, shrill whistle. "All right, boys! Let's move it!"

* * *

Hector flung his prepay onto the bucket seat next to him as he hit the gas pedal of his car.

_Why the hell isn't Luisa picking up her damn phone?_

* * *

Jolene found that, in spite of the violence that had played out a mere moment ago, she was quite calm, clear even. But then she recalled something her old man had told her long ago.

 _Babe, that's what rage feels like_.

Trying to push aside the fact that she had just killed another human being, Jolene put her mind on the task at hand. Flipping over the body, Jolene rifled through the pockets.

"Shit! Where's her fuckin' phone?" Jolene raged as she came up empty.

Pulling her rings from Luisa's lifeless fingers, Jolene slipped them back on as she quickly dashed across the room to retrieve both the knife and the gun. With nothing else readily available, Jolene used the knife to rip apart Luisa's tank top and fashioned it into a makeshift bandage. The cut on her arm, long, deep, and now filthy from rolling around on the dirty floor, was still bleeding profusely.

With the amount of adrenaline coursing through her body dropping significantly, Jolene was starting to feel the full force of two days of being bound in an awkward position coupled with the abuse she had suffered by Luisa's hand. Now, however, was not the time to stop moving and feel sorry for herself. She had to find a phone, get out, and find her baby boy.

Staggering up the stairs, Jolene paused in the small kitchen and focused all of her attention into determining whether or not she was still alone in the house. Satisfied that she was, Jolene first searched the counter tops and drawers looking for Luisa's hot pink glitter phone with no success. Gingerly heading towards the living room, Jolene could hear the muted sound coming from the television. Grinning, she spotted a small, pink and glittery object on the sofa. Walking over to pick up the phone, her hand was about to close over it when the sound of someone opening the front door with a key stopped her dead in her tracks.

With no time and no place to hide, she spun around with the gun in her hand, and was confronted with the shocked face of Hector Salazar as he frantically pulled out his weapon.

They both fired at the same time.

* * *

Abel was running so fast that he was almost a blur before he slammed into the his father's open arms. Frantically crushing his son against him, Jax was peppering his head with kisses as Abel cried into his kutte. Pulling away slightly, Jax did a quick scan from head to toe, growling in anger as he saw his son's pale checks, the bruising on his face, and his haggard expression.

Abel was shaking his head. "I didn't want to leave her, Dad, but she made me do it."

"It's okay, son. We're gonna get her back." Jax kissed his son on the forehead and released him into another pair of loving arms.

"Papa!" Abel cried as he was swooped up into his grandfather's powerful embrace.

"It's all right now," Clay soothed, rubbing the boy's back as Abel squeezed him with all his might. "You're safe now."

Jax turned to face the man who had called him to the gas station. His first thought was, _Either he's too young to be President, or I'm getting too fuckin' old._

"I spoke to you on the phone?"

"Yeah, I'm Roscoe." He confirmed and nodded towards Abel, who was now being crushed by Opie, followed by Bobby. "That's a tough little dude, _ese_. He nearly clipped me in the balls trying to get away. Said he was gonna crack my fuckin' nuts with his foot if I touched him."

"He takes after his mother." Jax acknowledged with a slight smile. "I have to find my old lady now, but I want to thank you for calling me. I owe you a debt, man."

Roscoe was shaking his head. "Hey, if it's the $50K you're talking about, you don't owe me shit, _ese_. Let's just call our debt even." He offered. "I tried to stop Salazar and his VP from doing the stupid shit that started this all. I knew it was a bad move, but we're even now, okay? Go find your _Mami_." Roscoe held out his hand.

Jax didn't hesitate in shaking it as he nodded his agreement. "Thanks." Turning back to his brothers and his son, he called out, "Half-Sack, take Abel and Clay back home. And Hap, don't leave their side."

As Clay protested, Jax eyed his father-in-law. "I _need_ you to keep my son safe for me, Clay. Please. I'm gonna bring Jo home, I promise."

"You do that, son." Clay gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder of his kutte and then turned to get into the van.

"Juice, you got the route?" Jax called out.

"Got it," Juice replied as he gunned his motor. "And it's less than a mile away."

Jax pulled out his Glock, checked the clip, and re-holstered it as he headed towards his bike.

"Hang on for me, baby." He whispered to himself. "I'm almost there."

* * *

He had been aiming for her chest. And if she hadn't taken the chance of trying to leap over the couch as she squeezed off a shot, he would've caught her too. Right in the heart.

Instead, judging from the burning sensation radiating from her right side, she had been nicked in the area exposed by her low-riding jeans. Lying on her back behind the couch, Jolene craned her neck to check out the damage, causing little daggers of pain to shoot up her side. Yeah, she was bleeding, but at least the bullet had not really penetrated, instead leaving a somewhat deep groove burned into her skin.

Her shot, however, had apparently found its target, although Jolene was sure it hadn't been a kill shot for two reasons. One, she had practically pulled the trigger with her eyes closed. And two, she could hear Salazar howling like a little bitch. Ignoring the pulsing pain in her gashed up arm and now her side, Jolene quickly got onto her feet, her gun fixed and pointed on Salazar as he writhed in pain on the floor.

Hector was too busy cradling his arm to his chest to notice her. The bullet from Jolene's gun had caught him in the wrist of the hand that had been holding his weapon, first shattering and then lodging itself into the bone. The pain was excruciating. Apparently, the impact had forced the gun to fall out of his hand and was now laying halfway between the front door and the threshold into the living room. Making a move towards him, Salazar—convinced that he had killed the bitch—was caught off guard. Both, ignoring the pain they were in, lunged for the gun at the same time, with Jolene hitting pay dirt as she scooped it up right from under his nose.

Training both guns on the man like a Wild West gunslinger, Jolene took a moment to admire her handiwork. Sure, she was tore up from the floor up, but at least she wasn't dead. Not like the bitch downstairs or the soon-to-be dead bitch sitting on the floor almost whimpering before her.

"Fuuuuck! That's gotta hurt." She commented. "Sucks to be you right about now, huh?"

Salazar had managed to drag himself upright so that he was now leaning up against the wall next to the front door. "You BITCH!" He gasped. "You shot me!" Hector's arm was in agony.

Jolene nodded nonchalantly. "Yep, seems that way."

"Luisa! LUISA!" Salazar called out. "Where are you, you fuckin' puta?"

"Really, _ese_? I'm standing here holding you at gunpoint, after shooting you with _her_ gun, and you still think she's alive? What a dumbass." Jolene marveled, wincing a little at the pain in her side.

Salazar, who was sweating profusely in spite of the cold dampness of the first floor, was looking at Jolene with wide, confused eyes.

"She dead?" He said stupidly.

Chuckling, Jolene shook her head. "Must be the blood loss." She said to herself as she moved across the foyer and went to sit on the stairs leading to the second floor, one gun still aimed at Salazar. She was exhausted.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Hector raged through gritted teeth.

"How? By staring daggers at me?" Jolene shook her head. "Looks can't kill, asshole. If they could, you and your bitch would have been dead days ago."

Hector was on the verge of tears now. "Awww, fuck! Owww, muthafucka! C'mon. Do something, bitch! Kill me and get it over with, or get me some help! Shit!"

Jolene eyed the man who was writhing in pain on the floor coldly. And she knew what she was going to do.

"Get you help?" Jolene asked incredulously. "Why? So you and whatever pathetic little crew you can put together again can come after me and my family to finish what you started? I don't think so." She cocked her head to the side. "You killed my best friend, leaving children motherless and my brother without his wife _and_ his father. You took something away from me and from everyone who loved Donna and Piney."

Jolene sighed, in her mind's eye picturing a laughing and vivacious Donna as they faced off against their men in the Clubhouse kitchen so long ago; a beautiful and starry eyed Donna as she walked down the aisle of a tacky wedding chapel in Reno; their happy reunion on the Winstons' front lawn after four years apart; and her friend's lifeless body in the arms of her broken, screaming brother.

Jolene didn't think about the right or wrong of it. She didn't care if it was considered self-defense or cold-blooded murder. She didn't care that she had already taken a life today. Jolene simply did not care as she felt the weight of the small gun in her hand.

 _The first one was self-defense_ , Jolene told herself. _But this one, this one is for Donna_.

Quickly standing up, Jolene cocked the gun she held in her outstretched hand and pointed it at a suddenly terrified Salazar. "Now, I'm taking something back." Jolene smiled as she swiped at the tears that were streaming down her face.

Aiming the gun like her old man had taught her during their first target practice together, Jolene narrowed her eyes and focused, concentrating on her target above Salazar's screams.

And this time, her eyes were wide open when she pulled the trigger.

* * *

Crouching in the bushes along the front of the house, Jax was the first one to react as he heard the gunshot.

Rushing head first, with no thought or care at all about his own safety, Jax ran up the porch stairs and kicked open the front door, his gun drawn. Not quite what he was expecting, his eyes widened in shock as he suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of the gun his old lady was pointing right at him.

Shaking uncontrollably, Jolene slowly let her hand holding the gun fall to her side, not sure if she was hallucinating. Seeing the rest of SAMCRO rush up behind her husband, Jolene heaved a little sigh of relief, which she could barely hear over Salazar's screams.

"A little late to the party, aren't ya, easy rider?"

Jax quickly strode across the foyer as his wife leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around him, her lips parted and ready to meet his with stunning force. He was holding her, feeling her familiar form pressed against his body as they kissed each other frantically and yet Jax felt like it was all a dream.

 _If that's the case, then I don't want to wake up_.

Pulling away breathlessly, Jolene looked into her old man's eyes brimming with tears. "My baby Abel? Is he—"

Jax smiled. "He's fine, darlin'. He's with Clay and on the way back home—" He started, but Jolene quickly pulled his mouth back to hers again. Backing her up against the wall by the staircase, Jax broke their embrace as he looked her over, grimacing at every bruise, cut, gash, and scrape he came across. "Shit, babe." Jax nearly moaned as he gently pressed his lips against the purple bruise on the side of her face. "What did they do to you?" She was covered in dirt and blood, her clothes were ripped, and her hair was a tangled mess.

Jolene lovingly cupped his face with her hand. "That bad, huh? You still love me though, right?" She teased.

Jax nipped at her lips. "With my heart and soul," He assured her as he put her back down on her feet. "But now, I have to go kill that son-of-a-bitch."

Jolene grabbed onto Jax's arm as their attention was suddenly drawn to the commotion that had erupted by the front door. Opie was being held back by Tig and Chibs in order to keep him from stomping the life out of Salazar, who was screaming like a banshee due to the new hole where his knee cap used to be.

"Ope, no!" Jolene yelled. "Don't touch him! Nobody touch him!"

Breaking away from her old man, Jolene ordered Chibs to close the front door, which was hanging off of its hinges, as she approached Salazar with her gun drawn once again.

"Luvvie," Chibs stepped in front of her. "Wha' the fuck are ya doin'?"

"Babe," Jax called for her attention. When she turned her head to look at him, he didn't like the look he was seeing in her beautiful seafoam green eyes. The light that had been shining there when she had first seen him was gone. Now, they were burning with pure rage and bloodlust. "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do," Jolene was nodding her head emphatically. "I have to finish this once and for all or he's gonna come back." Jax's heart tightened in his chest as he could hear the fear in her voice.

"Kit, you need to put the gun down." Bobby said gently.

"No. I can't, Uncle Elvis. Don't you see, I'm the only one who can get away with it." Jolene started explaining. "If I do it, I can plead self-defense. I don't want anyone in the Club going down for this shit."

"You crazy puta!" Salazar screamed. Turning onto his side, he tried crawling for the door, only to be stopped as Tig used his booted foot to kick him over and onto his back.

"I can't let you do this, Jo." Jax said softly. "This wasn't your beef, baby, and the blood shouldn't be on your hands. This is not who you are and I couldn't take it if you can't come back from this."

Jolene looked at Jax for a long time. "There's already blood on my hands, though." She almost whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Jax asked, his eyes wide.

"Luisa, Salazar's old lady." She replied calmly. "I killed her. I'm glad she's dead and I don't regret. If I had to, I'd do it again. I've always said that I would do anything to protect my family. Now I know that I can, so please stand back and let me handle this before someone calls the cops."

"Jolene?"

Looking to her left, she watched as Tig approached her slowly. "This ain't your shit to handle, Doll Face."

"I don't agree."

" _Your shit_ ," Tig continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Is to take care of our family. It's _my_ job to protect my President and my Club. You told me that, remember?"

Jolene swallowed the lump in her throat. "Do you always make a point to remember all the shit I say?"

"I try because, despite knowing that it would probably be a most pleasant and satisfying experience, I wanna avoid having you shove your size eights up my ass. I don't need your crazy old man gunning for me." Tig winked at her. "So, just give me the gun and let me clean up my mess once and for all. You wanna protect the Club, you take the rap, but at least you'll be able to sleep at night knowing that you didn't actually pull the trigger." Tig held out his hand. "And so will I. C'mon, Doll Face, give me the gun."

For a long moment no one spoke as Jolene and Tig battled each other with their eyes, with Salazar wailing the only sound to be heard. Jax watched the almost imperceptible moment when his old lady came to her senses. As her shoulders relaxed so did Jax's. Flipping it over in her hand so that the butt faced him, Jolene held the gun out for Tig.

But she wasn't done yet. Pulling her hand back, she said, "I'll let you handle this, but you have to promise me something."

"I can do that." Tig replied with a nod.

Jolene turned to Opie. "You two have to work your shit out. I'm done and I'm putting my foot down. Nobody is jumping charters. Nobody is ducking out of family dinners. And everybody's ass will be at the fuckin' table supporting my old man where they belong. When Tig does this, _it's done_. Agreed?"

Opie looked at his pain in the ass little sister and nodded. "Agreed."

"Tig?" Jolene eyed him warily.

"Absolutely."

"Then handle your business." Jolene placed the gun in Tig's hand, and in one smooth motion, Tig turned and fired.

* * *

The small dead end street in Lodi's worst neighborhood was ablaze with lights and noise, police vehicles and ambulances, and deputies and residents who had gathered to gawk at the spectacle that had gone down practically unnoticed in their own backyards.

"Well, shit." Roosevelt marveled, taking in the chaotic scene from the porch of the dilapidated house that had served as Hector Salazar's hideout. It had been almost an hour since he had been stunned by the news that Jolene and Abel Teller were safe and sound. He was still having a hard time believing that it was true, especially after hearing about the debacle created by the FBI earlier in the day. Having familiarized himself with SAMCRO's history over the past few months, however, it really should not have surprised him at all that Jax Teller and his crew had somehow managed to turn a seemingly dire situation around.

 _These white boys sure are resourceful_ , Roosevelt thought as he turned on his heel and re-entered the crime scene.

Although the activity inside the house mirrored what was going on outside, it was more of a controlled kind of chaos. Having done his walk-through before the Lodi Forensics Team and the Medical Examiner's Office made it onto the scene, Eli had seen where the Tellers had spent the last two days as hostages. It must have been a miserable experience for both mother and son having spent that time tied to a metal post in a damp, crappy basement.

He had also seen the bodies.

Eli rubbed his chin as he silently watched the couple sitting on the couch. The tall and menacing biker from the past two days was gone, replaced by the loving and caring husband that doted on his bruised and battered wife as she was being tended to by a paramedic. Standing next to them, almost as if standing guard, were the Club's Sergeant-at-Arms and Vice President.

"We really should to take you in, Mrs. Teller." The paramedic advised. "This is a pretty serious gash and we can't stop the bleeding without stitches. Besides, that bullet nicked your hip pretty deep—"

"I hope you won't think that I'm intentionally being bitchy," Jolene interrupted with a wince as the medic continued to clean her wound. "And I know you're just doing your job, but—ouch!—I don't think that you poking at it is helping me much."

Eli stood in front of the couple and shook his head. _I can't believe that this little slip of a woman took them both out!_

When he first arrived on the scene and had seen the carnage, Eli had been quick to assume that the former CL President and his old lady had been taken out by Jax Teller and his boys. But upon closer inspection, and after a brief conversation with the M.E., it seemed that Jolene Teller had put up one hell of a fight. At least as far the woman—Luisa Peralta—was concerned, the bruising, scratches, and finger marks found on the body were consistent with the hands of a woman about Jolene's size.

The death of Hector Salazar, on the other hand, would require further inspection. Even though the wounds to the body seemed to be made with the same small caliber gun that was found at the scene, he would have to wait for fingerprint analysis and autopsy results before he could close the file on this case. Eli Roosevelt may be an honest and by-the-book police officer, but he wasn't heartless. It was obvious that the woman had been through hell and yet had managed to find her way back. That she had done it all on her own would explain the loving pride that emanated from Jax Teller as he looked at his wife. He had to admit that he was a bit in awe of the young woman himself.

"So how are you holding up?"

Jolene looked up at the somewhat soft spoken man. "I could use a shot of tequila, but otherwise, I'm good. Just glad it's all over."

"I'm very glad that you and your son got out alive. I'm very interested in hearing how you managed to affect your own rescue." Eli looked at Jax. "You must be very proud of your wife."

Tearing his eyes away from Jolene, Jax looked up at the Sheriff, searching for some hidden sarcasm in his statement and realized that the man was actually being genuine. "You have no idea. I'm a lucky man."

Eli nodded with a slight smile. "I wish I could tell you that it was all over, but I'm going to need detailed statements from both you and your son and anyone else that was on the scene before the police arrived. Where is Abel, by the way?"

"He's safe at home with his grandparents." Jax replied.

"I understand that he managed to escape and called you for help. Is that right?" Eli asked.

"Yeah, that's right." Jax nodded. "He called me from the gas station on I-18 East. By the time we got to him there and made our way over here, we found my old lady and—"

"Two dead kidnappers." Eli interjected.

"That's right." Jax gave the Sheriff a shit-eating grin. "I guess they made a big mistake in underestimating my old lady."

"Oh, I reckon they did." Eli replied and then cocked his head as he heard more sirens accompanying the arrival of several cars. "Ah, my gut tells me that our new arrivals are here to see you. In my rush to get over here, I guess I kind of forgot to give the FBI a heads up." The Sheriff shrugged his shoulders.

Jax raised an eyebrow. "Oh, ain't that a shame." He replied with a slight grin.

 _Maybe Roosevelt's not that bad after all_.

The sound of several feet pounding their way up the short flight of porch steps could be heard through the open front door seconds before Special Agent Matthews and his team burst into the foyer.

"Shit!" Matthews cursed roundly as stooped down to yank back the tarp covering Hector Salazar. Flinging the tarp back over the body, he stood up and strode into the living room. "What the fuck happened, Roosevelt?"

"Can't you tell?" Eli replied suavely. "It seems that Mr. Teller was right when he said he didn't need the FBI or the Sanwa Sheriff's to handle his shit. He just let his old lady take care of business. You know, the woman you were trying to rescue." Eli nodded at the young woman sitting on the couch in the protective embrace of the biker glaring murderously at Matthews. "I'm sure you must be relieved considering that there was almost no hope of a happy ending after the FBI botched the ransom drop." Eli said tongue-in-cheek.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Agent Matthews said with barely concealed guile. "According to the report filed with the Bureau just a few hours ago, several agents signed statements attesting to the fact that the drop went south when the suspect got nervous and fled once a couple of kids on dirt bikes picked up the ransom."

"And what about the part when the park was swarmed by agents, making it seem like we were conspiring with the Feds?" Jax asked sarcastically. "Did that part make it into this _report_?"

"Why would it?" Agent Matthews smirked. "That's not what happened."

"Un-fuckin'-believable." Jax growled as he rubbed his hands over his face.

"Hey," Jolene tugged on Jax's goatee, forcing him to look at her. "Whatever happened, whatever they _claimed_ happened, who was or wasn't standing on the grassy knoll, none of that matters, baby. It's over, okay?"

"Okay." Jax smiled as his old lady pressed a kiss against his lips.

"I wish I could say differently, Mrs. Teller," Matthews started disingenuously. "But this is far from over. On the contrary, it's only just beginning. I find it highly unlikely that an unarmed and untrained woman could have affected such an escape without help, but we won't know for sure until we get a full recounting of events as they happened. We will be escorting you to the hospital here in Lodi for treatment where we will start the debriefing."

"The fuck you will!" Jax raged as he jumped to his feet. "She's been through enough and the only place she's going to is St. Thomas back in Charming and then home to her family."

"Look, Teller—"

"Are you really going to make me finish the ass whupping I started earlier today? I can make it happen for you, you know, because I've got nothing but time, space and opportunity, asshole." Jax said as he held his arms wide open, his nostrils flared.

Pulling her bandaged arm away from the paramedic, Jolene stood up and wrapped her arms around Jax's midsection from behind. "Baby, the only way I'm going anywhere is with you and that includes lock-up if you beat the shit out of this moron. I don't know about you, but I'd rather go home."

Looking down into Jolene's bruised, but still beautiful face, Jax felt his anger soften. Pulling her into his arms, Jax pressed a kiss onto her forehead. "I'm taking you home, darlin'."

"Mrs. Teller, I suggest you come along willingly because I can guarantee you won't like the alternative." Agent Matthews warned.

"Sean!" Agent Owens, who had been standing in the background watching the exchange, finally spoke up.

"Stay out of this!" Matthews chastised his second-in-command, none too happy that Agent Owens refused to sign a statement to be included with his report regarding the ransom drop.

Eli ran an uneasy hand over his clean-shaven head. "Don't do it, man. That would be a grave error in judgment."

"What?" Jax demanded. "What _alternative_ is he threatening my old lady with?"

"Arrest." Matthews replied. "And it's not a threat."

Jolene nearly panicked as Jax broke away from her and lunged at Matthews, only to be caught by Opie as the Sheriff moved to stand between him and the agent. It was going to get ugly and fast.

 _I think we need a quick exit_ , Jolene decided.

Clutching her stomach with her uninjured hand, Jolene heaved several times. Jax stopped struggling. "Jo, you okay, babe?" He asked and Jolene shook her head. Turning to face Agent Matthews, she violently unleashed the meager contents of her stomach. Spewing a direct hit. All over Agent Matthews' Brooks Brothers suit.

"What the fuuuuck!" He yelled, totally disgusted and in danger of throwing up himself.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." Jolene lied. "I'm not feeling very well." She lied again, trying to ignore the fact that Tig was choking down a laughing snort behind her.

Jax quickly wrapped his arm around his old lady. "Why the fuck are you laughing, asshole?" He looked over his shoulder at his SAA. "We have to get her back to Charming. I'm sorry about the mess," Jax said insincerely as Agent Owens tried to help her fellow agent with his soiled clothes. "But I'm taking my wife to St. Thomas. Her heart specialist is already there waiting for us."

"Jax, why don't you follow my squad car?" Roosevelt suggested. "With her arm in bad shape, your wife's in no condition to ride on your bike. With a police escort, you'll get there in ten minutes flat."

With a nod, Jax didn't bother to say anything else as he, Jolene, Opie and Tig followed Roosevelt out of the house.

The cold night air brought some color to Jolene's cheeks as she hugged the blanket that the EMT worker had wrapped around her before they left. She smiled, seeing the rest of SAMCRO waiting for her outside as they broke out into applause and wolf whistles.

"Are you sure you're okay? I don't think I've ever seen you throw up before." Opie queried.

"That's 'cause you're not a creep." Tig laughed. "Oh, shit, Doll Face, that was fuckin' awesome! I always thought you were bullshitting me about this hurl-on-command trick of yours. I can't believe I had to wait all these years to see that shit!"

Jolene gave her old man a sheepish look as the worry on his handsome face slipped away, only to be replaced by a look of disgust. "Jesus Christ! You did that on purpose, didn't you?" He asked incredulously. Jolene bit her lip and nodded. Jax rolled his eyes, relieved that at least she wasn't really sick. "You two really need to stop hanging around each other." Jax pointed at his old lady and SAA before leading Jolene to Sheriff Roosevelt's patrol car.

"I can't, bro," Tig teased. "I think I'm in love with your old lady."


	17. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.**

* * *

Jolene Teller had her head plastered against her old man's back as Jax weaved his bike through the streets of Charming on their way home from St. Thomas the next day.

After seeing an ER doctor, who stitched up the knife wound on her arm, dressed the area grazed by Salazar's bullet, and cleaned the bruises on her face, Jolene was given a thorough examination by Dr. Negron. Even though there were no major irregularities in the results of her blood work, Jolene was severely dehydrated and had gone two days without her heart medication. The doctor had insisted that, even though it was just precautionary, after the ordeal she had endured, it was best if she stayed in the hospital overnight. According to Dr. Negron, the best way to get the medication into her system as quickly as possible was intravenously, where she would also get several glucose bags to help with the dehydration as well as a course of antibiotics to prevent a staph infection due to the massive cut on her arm.

Jolene would have preferred going home right away, but considering how bone tired and weary she was, she readily agreed to stay for observation as long as Jax could stay with her. Knowing his old lady like the back of his hand, Jax was a little more than surprised—and worried—when she also agreed without argument to take a week off of work as recommended by Dr. Negron. After they were left alone for the night and she had curled into Jax's embrace on the hospital bed, Jolene confessed that she felt more beaten emotionally than physically. She needed a mental break in order to regroup before being able to go back to life as normal.

What Jolene had hoped would be an early spring had quickly reverted back to winter. Although the early afternoon sun was shining brightly and it was a beautiful day, the cold winter wind was seeping into her bones in spite of the ¾ length faux fur-lined leather jacket, turtleneck sweater and jeans that Gemma had sent to the hospital for her to wear. She couldn't wait to get home and hug and kiss all of her babies until they squealed before slipping into a hot bath, where she would sit until she resembled a prune.

As they left her hospital room earlier, Jax had tried to explain that her dramatic self-rescue had made the ten o'clock news. Apparently, St. Thomas had been under siege by reporters ever since her arrival last night. Considering how small a town Charming was, Jolene had underestimated what that actually meant until they reached the lobby and were greeted by what seemed to be at least a dozen patches, including Opie and Tig. Their entourage was clearly outnumbered and they were forced to leave the hospital by using the back entrance. A persistent group of reporters, however, were determined to get the scoop of the week and decided on following the Tellers back home.

As Jax pulled into the cul-de-sac that was the entrance to their house, Jolene's eyes widened as she took in the number of bikes and cars belonging to Club members and their families parked all over the Teller's property. Surprisingly, there seemed to be more reporters and TV vans blocking the driveway into their home than had been waiting outside the hospital.

"Shit, baby," Jolene tightened her hold around Jax's midsection as she tried to hide her bruised and battered face from the photographers trying to stick cameras up her nose. "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know, darlin'. Roosevelt was supposed to get rid of these assholes." Jax was literally grinding his teeth as he spoke above the roar of his bike. "Back off!" He yelled at a particularly aggressive cameraman.

Revving their motors loudly, Opie and Tig surged to the left and right of Jax, forcing the crowd of reporters out of the way. With the rest of their entourage slowly pushing the trespassers back out onto the street, Jax pulled into their crowded driveway. Hopping off, Jax quickly led Jolene to the suddenly opened doorway, with Opie and Tig right on their heels.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Jolene found herself being smothered in the warm and familiar bear hug of her father.

"Daddy!" She gasped, half-laughing and half-crying. "I can't breathe."

"Baby girl, you're gonna have to grin and bear it for just a little while longer." Clay's voice was jubilant, but his eyes were moist with his tears as he pushed her away slightly and looked her over. "Sons of bitches!" He growled angrily.

Jolene smiled up to her father. "I'm good, Dad. I really am." She promised and Clay pulled in her again, planting a kiss on the top of her head as he squeezed her again.

The house was seemingly packed to the rafters with Club members and their families, all wanting to be on hand to show their support when the Queen of Charming made her triumphant return home. Jolene could barely hear the screams of her children above the noise of their warm welcome.

"Mom! Mommy!"

Jolene managed to pull herself out of her father's embrace as she heard the cries of her children. She barely had time to brace herself for the impact as Abel and Maddy slammed into her.

Falling to her knees, Jolene fought to hold back her tears as she hugged her children tight, tenderly stroking her son's blond head and her daughter's ebony curls.

"Mom, are you okay?" Abel asked anxiously, his hand gently cupping her purple cheek. "I was so scared when you didn't come home right after—"

"I'm fine, baby, I promise. It was just a precaution." Jolene pulled Abel in for a kiss on his forehead. Standing, she scooped Maddy up as the little girl wrapped her small arms around her mother's neck.

"I was so scared, Mommy." Maddy said brokenly through her sniffles, the horrible events of the kidnapping flashing through her mind. "The bad man took you and Abee away."

Jolene smoothed the child's bangs out of her eyes and wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks. "But I'm back now, baby. Abee's fine and I'm better than fine now that I'm back home with you, okay?" Jolene assured her and the little girl nodded as she rubbed at her eyes with small fists.

Looking over Maddy's shoulder, whose head was now tucked into the crook of her neck, Jolene smiled through her own tears as she saw Neeta and Gemma with a bouncing TJ in her arms who was shrieking in excitement for his mother. Without a word she found herself engulfed in the embrace of both women.

Finally pulling away, Neeta gasped. "Girl, you must have nine lives! You're gonna put me into an early grave one of these days!"

"And I'll be right next to her if you keep this shit up!" Gemma managed to say before her grandson decided to leap out of her arms towards his mother. Barely managing to wrap her injured arm around him before he went tumbling to the floor, Jolene clasped TJ against her body in spite of the pain caused by the nearly 40 stitches.

"Mama! Mama!" TJ chortled as he managed to plaster a wet, open-mouth kiss on her collarbone.

Laughing, Jolene found herself being cradled from behind by her old man. "Babe, I think you better sit down before you fall down." Jax helped her sit on the couch as their family gathered around her wherever space was available.

Now settled comfortably with her two youngest on her lap and Abel tucked into her side, Jolene's eyes ran through the crowd, slow at first and then quicker as she started getting impatient. People were bombarding her with questions when Jolene raised her voice to make herself heard.

"Where are my niece and nephew?" She asked, referring to Ellie and Kenny.

The crowd around her suddenly became subdued as Jolene's motherly instinct kicked into high gear. Jolene had felt an underlying tension the moment she had entered her home and now she had confirmation. Eyeing everyone grimly, she refused to let herself panic until someone told her what the hell was going on.

Her daughter wasted no time. "Mommy, the police took Ellie and my Kenny away." She wailed.

Jolene's eyes widened in astonishment and anger as she looked at her old man who was sitting next to her. She swerved her head to catch sight of Opie's woebegone expression before turning back to her husband. "Jackson, what is Maddy talking about?"

Jax reached over, ran a hand through her hair and sighed. He knew that this shit was going to hit his old lady sideways, so he had avoided telling her for as long as possible. "Babe, the night you were taken, CPS stepped in and put the kids into foster care. They're being kept in separate facilities in Lodi."

Jolene stared at him blankly. "Are you kidding me?" She tried not to explode—at least not yet in a front of an audience. She loved Jax and respected his authority as SAMCRO's President, but family shit was _old lady business_. "And you didn't think I'd want to know before now that two very important people are missing from my family?"

"Darlin', there just never seemed to be a good time to tell you, not with you in the hospital." Jax reasoned.

Jolene's eyes started to well up. "I love you so much, Jax, but it's really in our best interest that you _never_ keep anything regarding our children from me again." She whispered. "And that includes Kenny and Ellie, no matter what's going on." Standing up, Jolene passed TJ to Neeta and then dropped Maddy into Clay's lap.

"Gem, I need help taking a shower." Jolene indicated her bandaged arm.

"Babe, let me help you." Jax stood up, hoping he'd be able to talk her out of being angry with him.

Grabbing onto his kutte with her good hand, Jolene shook her head. "No, baby. I need you to get in touch with Mona Day and tell her to meet us at the foster care facility in Lodi in one hour." Jax nodded and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"Mommy, you gonna get my Kenny back?" Maddy asked gleefully.

Jolene looked back at her daughter. "Oh, you bet I am!" She practically ran up the stairs as Gemma trotted after her.

Opie crossed his arms and grinned at his best friend. "She looked like she wanted to skin your ass, brother."

Jax smiled, grateful that his old lady had kept herself from doing just that in front of his Club. "Day ain't over yet, bro."

* * *

As Jolene took a quick shower and got dressed, Jax and Opie headed down to Jax's man cave. Opie pulled out his pre-pay to find his attorney's phone number when he realized that, during the commotion and drama of Jolene's release from St. Thomas, he had missed two phone calls from Mona Day herself. Checking his voice-mail and hoping for some good news, Opie felt like he had been punched in the gut instead.

According to Mona's hurried explanation, Debra McAlister, the court-appointed foster care liaison, upon hearing of Jolene Teller's epic escape from her kidnappers, had rushed into court that morning to file a temporary restraining order. McAlister was looking to block Jolene from regaining temporary custody of the Winston children, using her kidnapping ordeal as the primary reason why the children would be safer in the custody of CPS. Mona had been advised of the emergency motion only an hour before both parties were required before Judge Hollister to present their arguments regarding the TRO. Mona, unable to get into contact with Opie, had already left for court.

Jax, Jolene, and Opie had rushed over to the family court in Lodi just as oral argument was wrapping up. Expecting the Judge to call for a short recess, Mona looked shocked when Judge Hollister did not hesitate to render her decision from the bench and directly into the record. Granting McAlister's motion for a temporary restraining order, thus rescinding her previous order granting Jolene custody, Kenny and Ellie Winston were to remain in the protective custody of foster care until the conclusion of the custody trial. Judge Hollister also granted Mona's and Rick Morrell's request for visitation, which allowed both parties access to the children.

"I can't believe this shit." Jolene was on the verge of tears as she paced back and forth in the courthouse conference room after the hearing. Turning to Opie, who hadn't said a word since the Judge's ruling, she could no longer keep her tears from falling. "I'm so sorry, Ope."

Shaking his head, Opie reached for Jolene and pulled her into his arms. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Jo. I am just so grateful that me and the kids have you on our side. You did everything you could possibly do and you did it right. Thank you." He dropped a light kiss on her head as Jolene wiped her tears away.

"When can Ope see his kids?" Jax asked.

Mona folded her arms across her chest. "Tomorrow, Thursday at the latest."

* * *

The Lodi Home for Boys was a six-story building located in the southern part of town. Just a couple blocks on the other side of the railroad tracks used primarily to haul lumber, cattle and produce to other parts of California and the Pacific Northwest, the Boys' Home had the same negative connotation associated with coming from the wrong side of the tracks. Unwanted boys ranging from as young as 10 to as old as 17 were residents of the home. For most, especially those that came from impoverished and dysfunctional homes, surviving foster care intact was a daily struggle many couldn't overcome. Stories of children leaving the system worse off than when they had first arrived were far too common.

Bob Lerner grimaced as he got out of his blue sedan and looked at the old structure. The building, which had been built in the 1950s, looked structurally sound, but it was painfully obvious that very little had been done by way of maintenance. With peeling paint, cracks on the sidewalk and on the side of the building, and dirty windows, the place looked like it had been years since it was properly looked after. Bob shuddered to think that the inside probably didn't look any better.

With a sigh, Bob walked around the back of the car to open the door for his wife. As she stepped out, Helen wrinkled her nose. "This can't be the place. You must have made a wrong turn."

"Our GPS doesn't usually lie and neither would the sign, Helen." Bob grumbled as he pointed to the large, worn sign on the high fence that surrounded the property, proclaiming it, "The Lodi Home for Boys."

"This is awful!" Helen was aghast. "It's worse than where they're keeping Eleanor, and I didn't believe that was possible."

"Why would you?" Bob muttered under his breath as he slammed the car door. "You never believe what you don't want to believe, even if it's staring you right in the face."

The petite woman glared up at her tall husband. "You know, I am really getting tired of all these little muttered comments and digs of yours. If you have something to say, just come right out and say it." Helen declared.

Not waiting to hear if he did indeed have anything to say, she turned on her heel, missing the angry glare that crossed Bob's face as she marched over to the gate. Pressing the intercom button on the security panel, Helen announced herself and waited impatiently to be cleared for entry. As the buzzer sounded, Helen pushed through the gate with Bob following behind her.

This was the first visit they were making to their grandson. Their first visit with Ellie earlier that morning had been a dismal failure. Although the foster care facility Ellie was in was smaller and somewhat cleaner, Bob could tell by looking at the other young girls that it was not the place for his granddaughter. The girls looked forlorn and hopeless, with some of them looking rough and just downright angry and mean.

Ellie reminded Bob so much of her mother when Donna was that age. Donna, however, although a very sweet and good-natured girl, had a little of a hell-raising streak in her, a product of growing up with two older brothers, that was missing from Ellie. In spite of growing up in the world of outlaw bikers, Donna had pretty much kept her daughter sheltered from that way of life. As a result, Bob was afraid that Ellie was ill-equipped and unprepared for living through the rough patches in life without the love and protection of her family, her mother in particular.

When he entered the visitation room and saw his granddaughter, he could hardly believe his eyes. She was a shadow of her former self. Pale almost to the point of being colorless, Ellie seemed withdrawn and sad. After asking about her twin brother, she simply retreated within herself, refusing all attempts her grandparents made to engage her in conversation.

Now, walking into the home in which his grandson would be held prisoner until a final resolution could be reached in Helen's attempt to strip Opie of his parental rights, he could only hope that Kenny was faring better than his sister. Although still just a young boy who loved roughhousing and hanging out with his best friend Abel Teller, Kenny was developing far quicker than Ellie. Looking very much like his father with each day that passed, at 13, Kenny was already 5'10". He also shared his father's disposition and somewhat reserved nature. Because he was slow to anger, most kids who picked on him at school because of his family's association with SAMCRO quickly learned how mistaken they were in assuming Kenny to be harmless. Apparently, those mini-meat hooks packed quite a wallop, which his grandson was unafraid to unleash on anyone that pushed his buttons. Bob could only hope that Kenny would keep himself out of trouble while in this place. The last thing he wanted was the guilt of something happening to his grandson on his conscience.

So it really came as no surprise when Mark Dixon, one of the social workers on staff, informed Bob and Helen that Kenny was currently being kept separate, for his own safety, from the other boys.

"I wish I could tell you more," Mr. Dixon advised. "But in spite of the fact that it was Kenny defending himself against four other boys, all just as big, if not bigger, than him, he refused to tell us what happened."

"Is he all right?" Bob demanded.

Mr. Dixon nodded. "Yes, he was taken to the infirmary and did sustain some minor bruising. We intervened as soon as we became aware of the altercation but, as you can see, we are severely understaffed. He did manage to hold his own. Any other boy his age, and it could have been a lot worse."

"OH MY GOD! What kind of place is this? I want to see him right away!" Helen demanded angrily.

Mr. Dixon sighed. In his mid 50's, he had a tall, bulky frame and seemed somewhat mild mannered and gentle despite his appearance. "I understand you've been granted visitation rights by family court—"

"That's right." Helen quickly interrupted. "And we have all of our paperwork right here," She patted her leather handbag. "In case there are any doubts."

Mr. Dixon shook his head. "No doubts, ma'am. It's just that—" The social worker hesitated.

"What is it, sir?" Bob asked.

Mr. Dixon took a deep breath and let it out along with a rush of words. "He doesn't want to see you."

Both Bob and Helen were stunned speechless.

"I'm sorry. I must have misunderstood what you just said." Helen said stiffly, a faint blush of embarrassment already staining her cheeks.

"I'm afraid you didn't." Mr. Dixon replied.

"Mr. Dixon," Helen started in an ingratiating tone of voice. "You are familiar with my grandson's case, yes?" She asked and Mr. Dixon nodded. "Well, then you know that both of our grandchildren have suffered—we all have suffered a devastating loss. Unfortunately, as a result, Kenny has been exposed to a lot of terrible things, causing him to become a little confused, misunderstood, even. That's one of the reasons why my husband and I are seeking custody. We want to help both of our grandchildren get back on track and lead good and productive lives. We certainly don't want him in here forever. He may be angry with us now, but I'm sure that if we could just see him, I can probably reach him and help him see that we have his best interests at heart. I'm sure that you of all people can agree that the best place for him would be with his grandparents who love him and not here as if he was lost and unwanted."

Bob raised his eyebrows as he watched Helen work her mojo. She could be very persuasive when she wanted to be and was pouring it on thick. Unfortunately, it looked as if Mr. Dixon was buying everything she was selling.

"Absolutely. Of course I understand and I think it's commendable that you want to help your grandchildren. Look, I'm going to set you up in a private room and I'll bring Kenny down to you. Maybe once he sees you, he'll be open to working things out."

Helen smiled triumphantly at her husband as the man escorted them to a small room on the first floor. It was a group therapy session room used to work with several boys at a time on a variety of problems.

"Helen, I hope you know what you're doing." Bob said testily as he sat down on a metal chair. "Maybe it would be best to give Kenny some time to calm down before forcing ourselves on him. He's bound to be upset at us both for what he feels is a betrayal."

"Betrayal?! Have you lost your mind?!" Helen raged quietly through clenched teeth. "I am doing what needs to be done in order to save our grandchildren from the man who is responsible for killing our daughter! And don't you forget it!"

* * *

Kenny Winston followed the social worker down the hall, limping as he walked.

Mr. Dixon looked him over. "Are you okay? Maybe we should have somebody take another look at that."

"I'm cool." Came Kenny's aloof reply. "Am I going back into Gen Pop?"

Mr. Dixon's eyes widened. "Gen Pop? Kenny, it's not a prison, it's a school yard."

"School yard, prison yard, it's all the same to me. I can't leave without permission so what's the difference whether I'm outside locked in the 'yard' or inside locked in my room?" Kenny theorized. "It's still the same old shit."

"You know, you don't have to stay here. You do have options. It looks like a lot of people must care about you and your sister to be willing to fight for you." Mr. Dixon reasoned.

"Well, I sure wish people cared a whole lot less. Maybe if they did, I wouldn't be here in the first place." The boy growled under his breath as they came to a stop in front of a door. He ran his hand through his mop of uncombed hair and let out a heavy sigh. "Let me guess, Mr. Dixon. I've got visitors. I told you before, if it's not my Dad or my Aunt and Uncle, I'm not interested."

"Son, your grandparents have a right to see you, too. Don't make this situation any harder on yourself than it already is." Opening the door, he placed a gentle but authoritative hand on his charge's shoulder, gently pushing him through the door. "And be nice." He cautioned as he closed the door behind him leaving Kenny alone with his grandparents.

* * *

"Oh my God!" Helen cried. "What have they done to you?"

Rushing forward, Helen took Kenny's chin in her hands to examine the large welt on the side of his face. Pulling his chin out of her grasp, Kenny replied laconically, "Nothing as bad as what they got in return. Hey Grandpop." Kenny stepped around his grandmother and sauntered towards Bob, giving him a tentative hug.

Bob wrapped his arms around his young grandson and squeezed. "Damn, son. Either you're getting taller or I'm shrinking."

Kenny managed a slight grin. "I think it's a little of both, Pop."

Helen didn't know what to make of the cold reception she was getting, but she was determined to ignore Kenny's attitude.

"Your grandfather and I are just so relieved that you and Ellie are safe. I shudder to think what could have happened had those kidnappers taken you instead of Abel Teller." She commented.

Kenny eyed his grandmother coldly. "I'm thinking it would have gone down the same way it did. Aunt Jo would have kicked some ass and saved me just like she saved herself and Abel."

"Don't you realize that things could have been much, much worse?" Helen was aghast.

"Of course I do, Nana." Kenny scoffed. "Bad shit happens all the time—"

"You know I don't like it when you use that language, Harold." Helen chastised.

"And you know I don't like it when you call me 'Harold', so it looks like we're both gonna be unhappy today, huh?" Kenny shot back.

"Kenny!" Bob said in a gruff tone. "Respect your grandmother."

Kenny felt a flicker of shame, but he was too intent on having his say. This would probably be his one and only chance and he was determined to get it out, whether or not his grandmother could take it.

"I'm sorry, Pop, but you know I'm speaking the truth. Bad stuff happens all the time and bad stuff happens to good people. Some of it we can prevent, others we can't. I loved my Mom and I always will, but she made the decision to save the lives of two innocent kids because she felt that it was the right thing to do." Kenny turned to face his grandmother. "I miss her _every day_ ," His voice cracked with emotion. "But I have nothing but mad respect for what she did because she did it out of love. Because she loved her family and Maddy and TJ were her family. Just like me and Ellie are Aunt Jo's family. Mom loved us and she loved Dad because he made her happy, even when he left his dirty laundry lying around the house or when they fought like a lot of grown ups do. No matter what, though, she loved him and I don't understand why you always hated that she did. He's my Dad, Nana. I'm a part of him. Does that mean you hate me and Ellie too because judging from what you're doing to us, if feels like you do." He said mournfully.

Bob watched his wife as their grandson's words hit her like tiny knives. "Of course I don't hate you, Kenny." She said tremulously.

"Then why are you doing this?!" Kenny's anger suddenly exploded. He swept his hand around the room. "How is ripping me and Ellie away from Dad and putting us in this horrible place a loving thing to do? I can't even think about what Elle must be going through! We've already lost Mom and now you want to take us away from Dad. I haven't seen my sister in almost a week and have no idea how she's doing. You're tearing my family apart and what for? Mom would be so disappointed in you right now." He ground out.

Kenny headed for the door and stopped. Without looking back, he said, "I don't know what's gonna happen, but even if you do win in court, you've already lost me _._ "

Watching his grandson stalk out of the room, Bob had never felt such pride as he did in that moment. Sitting in silence, the only sound being Helen's quiet tears, Bob finally spoke.

"Are you so self-involved and selfish that you cannot see that you are destroying the lives of your very own flesh and blood? You are putting those children through unnecessary pain and heartache and they will resent you for it. They're going to resent me for it too and that's why I can no longer be a party to this. You are on your own. You really need to think long and hard about going any further before you lose everything you _claim_ you love."

* * *

"Shit, bro, you do realize that it's like 40 degrees out here, right?" Opie quipped as he stepped out of the kitchen through the French doors to find his President flipping burgers on the deck at Teller's state-of-the-art grill.

Jax grinned as he inhaled and exhaled, his cold white breath trailing around his face. "Yeah, man, but Mad wanted me to make her one of my special burgers, so I thought I'd throw a few on for her and Abel."

Opie chuckled. "Damn, you're an awfully big man to be wrapped around Maddy's tiny little finger."

It was Sunday afternoon and Jolene had sent out an invitation for a mandatory family dinner at the Teller home. Opie was glad to be there. The last couple of weeks had been difficult to say the least.

Opie was spending as much time as possible visiting both of his kids at the foster care facilities in Lodi. It was painful seeing his children in such a horrible place and even worse seeing the apathy creep into his young daughter's eyes as the days turned into weeks. When not visiting his children, Opie was working tirelessly with his family law attorney in pulling their case together, including working with private investigators hired to dig into the Lerner's health issues in order to get as much ammunition as possible before depositions were scheduled to begin.

He was also keeping himself busy at home, doing a lot of work on the house with the hope that his children would come home permanently. There was no other option for Opie and he was determined to make that happen. He had his entire SAMCRO family in his corner, finally coming to the understanding that separating himself from his family and the Club had not been the answer. Pulling closer together was.

Opie turned as the door opened and his niece ran outside. Wearing nothing but one of her brother's old t-shirts and a pair of jeans, she made an attempt to climb up her uncle's legs. Bending down to give her a hand, Opie now had her perched in his burly arms. "What are you doing out here without a jacket, Maddy? Aren't you cold?"

Maddy gave him an emphatic nod in the affirmative. "But I want my burger more than a jacket, Uncka Ope. I'm hungry! Is it ready, Daddy cuz Mommy said dinner's on the table?"

"You can't rush perfection, Mad." Jax quipped.

Reaching for her father, Maddy grabbed onto his chin hair—a habit she picked up from her mother—and pulled him towards her, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. "You make the best burgers in the world, Daddy." Maddy smiled angelically.

Jax gave his daughter a rakish grin as Opie rolled his eyes. "That I do."

 _Yeah, Ope's right_ , Jax smirked to himself _. Between Mad and my old lady, I've been reduced to a pile of mush. And I wouldn't have it any other way_.

* * *

Jolene smiled as she looked down the long table in her formal dining room. Normally, Sunday dinner called for the casual dining room right off the kitchen, with the formal one reserved for holidays and special occasions. Inexplicably, however, Jolene had awoken feeling more like herself than she had in the last several weeks and, considering all that's happened, that in itself was a special occasion and a reason to celebrate.

Jolene thought about the countless family dinners at her parents' home over the years. In spite of the hard work before, during and after such dinners, Gemma always seemed to get so much joy out of bringing her family together. It was also a good way of reminding the men at the table that sharing a patch meant that SAMCRO was indeed a family.

Unfortunately, two of those men needed more of a reminder than the others. Jolene made a mental note to confront them later on and remind them that reneging on a promise was not an option.

Sitting next to her husband who was at the head of the table, Jolene scanned the happy faces that were chattering boisterously through mouths full of food. Not much could be said about their table manners as a whole, but the love they had for each other and their own families was clearly evident. Jolene swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as she looked at Opie and at the chair next to him now occupied by his mother Mary.

 _That was Donna's seat_.

Even though it still hurt to realize that the majority of Opie's family was missing from these gatherings—two of which they were prepared to fight tooth and nail in order to get back—Jolene finally felt somewhat at peace. She still missed Donna, always would, but she was comforted by the fact that she was lucky enough to have her in her life for over twenty years. Now it was time to move on and honor their relationship by taking care of Kenny and Ellie.

She only hoped that she would get the chance to do so.

* * *

Neeta got up from her seat at the table and headed into the kitchen. It was almost time for dessert and she had made her famous red velvet cake.

 _Made especially for my baby Abel, and maybe just a little for Jax, too. Like father, like son, they both just love my velvet cake_ , she thought smugly.

She had just placed the large sheet cake on the wooden island in the kitchen when she heard the front doorbell.

"Damn, who the hell can that be on a Sunday afternoon?" Heaving a sigh, she shuffled towards the door. But as she got closer to the beveled glass in the front door, Neeta was able to see who it was. "Oh my, wonder what he wants."

Throwing open the door she looked into the eyes of Bob Lerner.

"Good evening. It's Miss Neeta, isn't it?" Bob asked kindly.

"That's right and you're Opie's father-in-law, Mr. Lerner, right?"

"Yes. I stopped by his house, but he wasn't there so I took a chance that he might be here." Bob explained.

"That's always the safest bet," Neeta replied as she ushered the older gentleman in. "Here or at the Clubhouse. Let me take your coat."

"Oh, no, that's quite all right. I won't be staying too long." Bob declined.

"Well, then follow me."

Walking through the living room entrance, Neeta crossed over the thick carpet and into the entrance of the large dining room. It was loud with laughter and the noise of conversation, so much so that at first, no one was aware that there was a visitor among them.

Neeta turned her head towards Mr. Lerner. "As you can see, they're a rowdy bunch."

"Yes, I get that." Bob smiled. "Just like most families."

Suddenly, Neeta put two fingers in her mouth and cut loose with a loud wolf whistle.

"Damn, woman!" Tig exclaimed, clutching at his chest. He had been sitting near the foot of the table closest to the entrance. "You scared the living shit outta me! I didn't know you could do that."

"Just cuz you haven't seen it, don't mean I can't do it. I can do a lot of things," She replied drolly. "Like announcing visitors. Opie, you have a guest."

Opie, however, had already gotten up from the table when his eyes caught sight of his father-in-law. "Bob, what are you doing here?" The room suddenly grew quiet.

"Maybe you'd like to talk in private." Jolene offered anxiously.

"No, there's no need. In fact, I think it would be a good idea if everyone heard this." Bob walked around the table to face his son-in-law. "I wanted to tell you this in person, before you heard it from your lawyer."

Opie's heart sunk in his chest. _Aw shit_! "Tell me what?"

Bob reached out and placed a trembling hand on Opie's shoulder. "We're dropping the custody suit, son. Your kids are coming back home to you."

It was deadly silent for all of five seconds before the cheering and war whoops cut loose and Bob suddenly found himself in the crushing embrace of his son-in-law. As the celebration broke out around them, Bob barely managed to make out Opie's whispered words in his ear. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Jolene was mopping at the tears deluge of tears running down her face as she was first hugged by her old man and then Gemma who was sitting on her right.

Clay wrapped a burly arm around his old lady. "That is fuckin' fantastic!" Looking down towards the end of the table, Clay saw the look of relief and peace that finally settled on his former SAA's face.

_This bit of good news should go a long way in healing the breach between my brothers._

Opie finally managed to get himself under control, but his face was wet with his own tears. "I don't understand. What happened?" The crowd quieted down to hear Bob's reply.

"What happened? Your son happened, that's what happened." Bob laughed. "You should be proud of Kenny. That boy's got his head screwed on tight. He talked Helen off the ledge."

"What?" Opie said blankly.

"Actually," Bob reconsidered, relishing the memory of his grandson putting his wife in her place. "It was more like he shouted her off. He may come across like a gentle giant, but that boy's got quite a temper."

"Takes after his old man." Jax called out with a grin and a wink aimed at his brother.

"Well, he made a shit load of sense," Bob said. "Really brought home some ugly truths to my wife about herself. Finally seeing who she's become through her grandson's eyes made quite an impression and she's really ashamed of herself. Truth is, with her bitterness and resentment towards you, she had lost Donna way before our daughter died. Helen finally opened her eyes to the fact that she was about to lose her grandchildren for the same reason. I just hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me for letting it get this far. Helen not dealing with her grief was a big part of this, but I was too busy dealing with my own to see that she was hurting.

"Anyway," Bob sighed. "Don't let me keep you from dinner. I just wanted you to know that we had finally come to our senses. Papers will be filed first thing in the morning withdrawing our motion. If all goes well, you should have your kids back by the end of the week, so you can start rebuilding your family again. With our blessings."

* * *

Tig poured himself another shot of Jack as he sat in his favorite leather armchair. It was a quiet evening for him and a little strange considering that the after-Church party was probably raging out of control and he was sitting in his living room across town and not there. It was very unlike him, but at the moment, for the first time in a long time, he was actually enjoying his own company.

It had been almost a week since Bob Lerner had shared the good news concerning Opie's kids. However, even though Bob had been true to his word and papers withdrawing their motion for custody were filed the next day, the court-appointed liaison was determined to rock the boat. Debra McAlister quickly filed yet another emergency motion requesting that the children remain in foster care. She argued that, considering the biological father's affiliation with outlaw bikers, it was likely that the Lerners had been "persuaded" to drop their suit. And even if they weren't, the Winston children were still at risk.

Judge Hollister, listening to her instincts, quickly shut McAlister down, saying that her courtroom would not be the backdrop for the execution of personal vendettas. The Judge was dismissing the case, citing that McAllister's request in light of the Plaintiffs' withdrawal of their suit was "transparent and absurd and a poor waste of the Court's time and money".

Without any further complications, Opie had been reunited with his children the day before yesterday. Finally, Tig felt like he could heave a big ol' sigh of relief. Although he had seen and had been responsible for some truly sick shit going down in his time as a member, nothing had brought him to his knees like being partially responsible for a brother almost losing his entire family.

He would be forever grateful to his former President Clay and his daughter Doll Face for giving him the two kicks in the ass he needed to start the process of getting his shit straight. Killing Hector Salazar in order to close that painful chapter in SAMCRO history had also gone a long way in healing that wound. Even though he had pulled the trigger so Jolene wouldn't have to, she had relinquished the kill to him in exchange for a promise to make things better with Opie. Judging by the time that has passed since then, it would obviously not be a process that would happen overnight. Even though they had yet to sit down and settle the matter once and for all, Tig had noticed that Ope no longer went out of his way to avoid him. That his brother would actually initiate conversations that included him.

 _Yeah, it won't happen overnight and things between us may never be the same again, but we'll find a way to co-exist for the sake of the Club_.

Reaching for the bottle of Jack, the SAA was about to pour another shot when he heard the distinctive sound of a bike pulling into his driveway. Moments later he could hear the heavy tread of footsteps up the porch stairs before there was a knock on his front door. Hesitating for a moment, Tig put down the bottle and picked up his Glock. In spite of Jolene busting into his home uninvited, he still wasn't used to visitors. Taking the safety off, he walked towards his front door. Peeking through the window, Tig froze as he saw Opie standing on his front porch.

 _Oh shit_.

It appeared that a time for a reckoning had finally arrived. Sure Doll Face had put her foot down about the two brothers coming to terms with what happened for the good of their family, but in reality this was Club business. Ultimately, it would be up to Ope to decide on a resolution. As the one indirectly responsible for the deaths of Opie's wife and father, Tig knew he really had no say in how Opie handled the situation. He could only hope that his brother did not call for his head on a platter.

Putting his gun in the back of his jeans, Tig opened the door.

"Uh, hey."

"Hey." Opie replied quietly. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." Opening the door wide, Tig headed towards his living room, his brother closing the door and following behind him. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure."

"What'll you have?" Tig pointed to a bar set up he had in the corner of the living room.

Opie eyed the bottle of Jack sitting on the coffee table. "What you're having is fine."

Tig nodded and strode over to the bar to grab a glass as Opie sat down on the couch. Returning to his own armchair, the SAA poured them each two fingers of the whiskey. The two men drank in silence until Opie spoke.

"You know that Jo and I go back a really long time, right?" Opie started as Tig nodded. "She literally is the pain in the ass little sister I got stuck with because, even back then, I think Jax knew he wanted her, but definitely not as a sister."

Tig chuckled as he drained his glass. "Yeah, poor bastard never stood a chance, did he?"

"No, he didn't," Opie smiled. "And neither will we if we don't do as she says and handle our shit. I don't know about you, but I don't want to piss her off again. She packs a mean punch."

"Really?" Tig asked with a raised eyebrow. "And you know this from experience?"

"Unfortunately, I do. I got a little mouthy with her a while back and got clocked right on the nose." Opie said wryly. "Almost knocked me back a step."

"Shit, you really must have set her off."

"Yeah, enough that Jax knocked me on my ass for it the day after." Opie said somewhat shamefaced.

Tig's eyes widened as he made the connection. "So that's why Jax had you kissing the pavement. She's a tough bitch, but upsetting his old lady could have put you in an early grave, man." Tig laughed.

"And I would have deserved it, too. I was in a bad place, still am a little, but that didn't excuse the horrible things I said to her, especially when all she was doing was looking out for me and the kids." Opie explained.

"She has a habit of doing that, huh? Looking out for people." Tig commented thoughtfully. "If it makes you feel any better, she broke into my place a couple of months ago and then busted my balls."

"She did?" Opie's eyebrow shot up. "And you lived to talk about it?"

"Barely. Little girl unloaded on me when I didn't show up for your homecoming party. She's a tricky bitch, that one." Tig nodded. "Picked my lock and walked right in uninvited, tossing her weight around. Ordered my ass into the shower while she made me breakfast. Softened me up real good and proper and then, _wham_ , she went for the jugular. If I didn't think Jax would kill me for laying a finger on his old lady, I would have picked her up and tossed her out on her ass. I'm glad I didn't, though. Doll Face never took a shot at me, but she might as well have. Her words are just as good as a couple of nut punches, but they woke my ass up."

Opie laughed. "Yeah, Jolene Teller does have that effect on people."

The two men were silent for while as they contemplated all of the shit that had gone on between them.

Finally, Opie sighed. "I wanted to kill you, you know."

"I know and you're completely entitled to feel that way. I caused the death of your wife and, ultimately Piney's as well." Tig said somberly.

"No. You didn't, bro."

In shock, Tig's blue eyes thoroughly examined his brother's face to try and read his thoughts and was surprised when he saw that the animosity and hatred that had been in Opie's eyes for the last seven months were gone.

"It's taken me a long time to get to this point. I still believe that you fucked up. Big time. But I know you didn't mean for shit to go sideways. You protected my daughter, kept her alive while all this shit was going down." Opie sighed. "And I know in my heart that if you could have saved Donna you would have."

Tig was so suddenly overwhelmed, he could barely choke out his next words. "I really would have, brother. I would have traded places with her in a heartbeat."

"I know." Opie nodded. "And Pop? He was sick. If his doctors were right, he would have died right around this time and his cantankerous old ass wasn't about to die peacefully in his bed. Going out the way he did was what he wanted. If he hadn't done it for Donna, he would have found some other reason. He didn't carry around those cyanide pills in his pocket for nothing. The way he went out, that was his endgame and I can't put his death on you."

"I am sorry, Ope. I can't tell you how sorry I am." Tig said quietly.

Opie swiped at an errant tear. "I know you are. You're my brother, Tig. The Club is my family and I love my family. It may never be the same between us, but I'm willing to try and work our shit out. The Club needs you and so does Jax. You think we can do this?"

Tig nodded. "We have no choice. Not with the Prez's crazy old lady on our ass. If she's anything like her father—and I know she is—she won't take too kindly to having her orders disobeyed. She would have made Clay a great son and an excellent patch."

Opie smiled. "Yeah, somehow, I don't think Jax would agree with you on that one." The two men laughed quietly.

It would take some time for the two brothers to find their way, but eventually Opie realized that they would.

They were already part of the way there.

**_To Be Continued . . ._ **


End file.
